


Raise Me From Perdition

by Sauric



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Birthday Fluff, Blood, Bloodplay, Blow Jobs, Bottom Dean, Canonical Character Death, Charlie Bradbury & Dean Winchester Friendship, Consumption of Blood, Cutting, Dark Past, Denial of Feelings, Doctor Castiel, Domestic, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, FBI Agent Dean, First Kiss, Fluff, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Hate Crimes, Hell Flashbacks, Homophobic John Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Lawyer Sam Winchester, Lube, M/M, Medical Examiner Castiel, Mentions of Suicide, Minor Character Death, Minor Charlie Bradbury/Gilda, Minor Ellen Harvelle/Bobby Singer, Minor Original Character(s), Minor Sarah Blake/Sam Winchester, Murder, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Past Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Torture, Questionable Police Procedures, Self-Hatred, Sleepy Cuddles, Suicide Attempt, Surprises in the epilogue, Swearing, Threats, Top Castiel, Torture, Vomiting, safe sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-06-01 03:43:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 69,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6499456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sauric/pseuds/Sauric
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is an FBI Agent in the BAU, following in his father's footsteps, when a strange string of murders comes across his desk from Lawrence, KS. He takes the case, returning to his hometown, where he meets the enigmatic and somewhat infuriating Medical Examiner, Dr. Castiel Novak, who is helping out with the case as an expert on what inflicted various wounds on the victims. While investigating this serial killer, dubbed The Demon King, Dean is abducted. Will Castiel be able to save him, in more ways than one?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Case

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that this work will contain full and partial quotes and references to canon events in the show. Some of them will be out of sequence, so please no griping, "The beginning happened in S10 but the end happened in S4!" I know. I did it on purpose.
> 
> I will be adding tags as needed.
> 
> Also please note, if a case does not line up with a case in the show, it is based on one or more real criminal cases. They are intended to be disturbing, so please be aware.
> 
> I am trying to do my research and be thorough but if I make a huge tactical error, please let me know.

Dean stepped into his office at the Behavioral Analysis Unit in Kansas City, shutting the door quietly behind himself before sinking into the comfortable chair behind his desk.  _Finally..._ He sighed, a breathy, tired sound, leaning his elbows on his desk and staring down briefly at the stack of paperwork waiting for him before the corner of his mouth curled up. It could wait til morning, couldn't it? They had the bastard now.

He'd been a smug jerk, too, a serial rapist and murderer. Dean's profile--mid thirties to early forties, drove an older, beat up car, overweight, lived in his mother's basement, reclusive, worked from home, and (Director Mark Cain had hotly debated this one) likely had an extensive porn collection--had been right on the money. And despite the Director's protest, it had been that last tidbit that had given Dean the necessary inspiration to bring this case to a close. Still...

He shoved the stack of papers aside. They _could_ wait. The rest of his team had already gone out or home, mostly, so he deserved a break to celebrate, too. There was only one team member he knew would still be hanging around the office at this late hour, and he picked up the phone, holding it for a moment as he debated with himself. Finally, he gave in and punched in a familiar number, pressing the phone to his ear.

It didn't take long before someone on the other end picked up and a cheerful, feminine voice piped up, "Fount of knowledge, what can I do for you?"

Dean let a grin spread across his face. "Miss Bradbury?"

He could hear the responding grin in her voice as she replied, "Mr. Winchester. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Oh, I was merely....hoping I could treat my brilliant colleague to a drink tonight, as thanks for helping us catch a creep," Dean drawled, scratching at the stubble on his chin casually.

"Brilliant colleague, eh? But not for your best friend?"

Dean's grin only widened. "I suppose I could buy her a drink, too."

"Then absolutely," Charlie laughed. She sobered a moment later, though. "Don't sell yourself short, though, Dean."

"If you hadn't tracked down the payments from the porn websites, we wouldn't have found him, Red."

"And if you hadn't figured out that he was likely a webmaster for porn sites at all, I wouldn't have known where to start looking. Give yourself credit for your own brilliant thinking."

"Brilliant thinking, huh? I guess you owe me a drink then, too," Dean shot back, chuckling as Charlie snorted at him. "But then I guess your best friend would feel shorted also."

"Fine, I'll buy yours, you buy mine, okay?" Charlie giggled.

Dean shook his head fondly. "It's a date, Red. I'll swing by your office and we'll head out."

He shoved the papers back into the inbox tray on his desk, grabbing his suit jacket and swinging it on over his shoulders before grabbing his keys to lock up behind himself as he stepped into the hallway. It was quiet, and some of the lights were low, the only folks on duty at this sort of hour were mostly on-call and the anti-terrorism unit. His unit focused on crimes against adults and therefore actually had more of a chance to go home now and then.

But what was there to go home to? Dean's desk had no crudely drawn pictures like Benny's, no wedding photos like Victor's, and no pictures of girlfriends or boyfriends (no--scratch that line of thinking _now_ ) like Bobby's office. It was as empty on the walls as his dad's had been. He could put up posters on his office walls like Charlie, he supposed, but it seemed exceedingly unprofessional to tack up Star Wars in what amounted to a government office. Rufus kept his to photographs of hunting and fishing trophies, and the new guy, a fresh-faced kid practically, Kevin, still hadn't brought along anything to personalize his space. But Dean had been there longer--much longer--and he still had nothing to show of his life outside of the BAU.

That thought was a hoot, though. What life? He'd tried dating off and on, until he met Cassie. He thought things had been going great until he'd gotten hurt on a case and she left, saying she couldn't deal with worrying about him all of the time. When Lisa came along later with her young son, Ben, Dean had really thought he'd had a chance then--to be a husband and a father maybe. At least it would have made his own dad proud. But after several months together, Lisa told him to pack his things and go. She said he was married to his job and he'd rather be here at the office than at home. So he'd listened and left and had been single ever since. No dating, not even much partying and hanging out.

He supposed that made going out for a drink tonight a good thing.

He swung by an office with a pretty nondescript door, knocking, and a moment later, a fiery redhead bounced out into the hall with a grin and a greeting of, "What up, bitch?", locking her own door before looping her arm through Dean's as they walked down the hall. 

"Not much, got a hot date," he grinned at her, "and I was kidding about you buying me drinks. It's on me, Red." Charlie opened her mouth to protest and Dean cut her off with, "You can catch it the next time around." Charlie gave him a half smile and a nod, seeming satisfied with that.

"Not much a date, though, since one of us is a raging queer." Her own grin was back full force.

"Nah, it'd be like dating my sister. And anyway, I can't imagine trying to make someone who doesn't even want me, date me." He shuddered slightly, his expression hardening as he glanced at Charlie. He looked faintly haunted, and it chilled Charlie to see that look on his face.  
  
"Dean, what--?"

"The job just gets to me sometimes. Knowing there are guys out there like that who think they're entitled to take whatever they want and act like women who ignore them deserve to be killed in punishment for it."

Charlie frowned. "You're thinking of the victims again."

Dean started slightly. "Uh...yeah. Sorry, I'm being a downer."

She shook her head. "What are best friends for? They listen to you bitch and moan and then they cheer you up. So let's get that drink!"

A door opened behind them and Charlie bit back a groan, tugging on Dean to try to pull him around the corner faster, but it was too late. They had been spotted. "Hold on there, Bradbury, Winchester."  
  
They both ground to a halt and turned around, plastering on fake smiles. "Director Cain! Always a pleasure!" Dean said, making his best effort to keep his expression neutral and his voice level. Fuck. They'd been so close.

Cain narrowed his eyes. "Don't waste my time, Winchester. Recall your team, we have a case. Meeting room one, thirty minutes."

Shit.

A few phone calls and twenty-seven minutes later found Dean and his team assembled in meeting room one with Cain reviewing last minute details with Dean before he turned to address his team.

Dean sighed. "Alright, folks, we've got three murders. All male victims, similar injuries--mostly puncture wounds and flaying. All exactly ten days apart."

"Female serial killer?" Bobby offered. Female serial killers were uncommon, but it was a good likelihood with all male victims. Still...Dean shook his head.

"Don't think so, Bobby. All of the victims have head wounds that are believed to be the cause of death." Not really the typical style of female serial killers. Women tend to avoid faces when killing, whether it's themselves or someone else.

"Where were they found?" Benny drawled in his Cajun accent. He managed to look the least ruffled of the bunch, despite the fact that Dean had dragged him away from a date with his awesome wife, Andrea.

"Posed stretched out in public places like parks. Like they were about to be drawn and quartered," Dean responded absently.

Kevin's nose scrunched up and he reached for the photos of the victims and crime scenes. "Or crucified," he finally offered, and Dean's brows shot up. Finally, he nodded at Kevin.

"Good, very good."

"So where are we going?" Rufus asked.

"Not 'we'," Dean said, glancing at the Cajun. "Me 'n Benny for now. If we need more backup, we'll let you know." Andrea was not that far from giving birth to their second child, but for this kind of case, Dean wanted along someone young enough to keep up, but old enough to have his wits about him at all times. He glanced at Benny apologetically, but the Cajun shrugged.

With male victims like these, Kevin seemed like too much of a risk. Victor had been with him on the last case, and although he wouldn't say it, Rufus and Bobby were starting to get on in years. His dad had retired a year ago already.

"So," Benny's drawl sounded again, "where are _we_ headed, brotha?"

Dean's expression darkened as he dropped the file in his hand on the table in front of him. "Lawrence."


	2. You're Annoying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Benny head to Lawrence to find out details about the case and Dean meets the most annoying man he thinks he's ever met.
> 
> He also makes a couple of stops to visit some familiar faces after he arrives.

The next morning found Dean and Benny throwing a couple of overnight bags in the back seat of their government-issued black full-sized Chevy. Dean grumbled and groused under his breath, and Benny glanced at him with a wide grin and a chuckle. "What're you fussin' 'bout over there, brotha?"

Dean sent back a withering glare. "That's Chief to you," he growled irritably, and Benny only laughed louder.

"Okay, okay, brotha. What're you fussin' 'bout, _Chief_?" The grin turned almost leering and Dean's expression turned to disgust.

"Nothin', man. I just...I would prefer to be driving my own car, you know? It's just up the road."

Benny climbed in, and Dean finally gave in and heaved himself in as well, taking up the driver's seat. Even now, he was still picky about other people driving whatever he felt was his car, and his work car, bulky SUV that it was, counted, too. Finally the Cajun looked over at him. "You think you'd be more comfortable or somethin'? It doesn't change anything, brotha. Goin' home is always hard and your muscle car ain't really equipped for big fancy government work."

Dean tried to look offended, but it didn't work so well when a grin was creeping in around the corners of his mouth. "Are you kidding me, Benny? You've seen my Baby. You could fit a dead body in the trunk!"

Benny burst out with a bark of laughter. "Sounds more like it's a car for a serial killer than for a man who catches 'em!"

Somehow, Benny's joke eased the tension out of Dean a little, and he joined in with the laughing before starting the car and heading off down the road.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

The road to Lawrence from Kansas City wasn't all that long, under an hour, especially if traffic was good, but it didn't mean that Dean returned to his hometown very often. Or in years, actually.

Coming into town, he rolled past a building that didn't look like much more than a motorcycle bar, the name Harvelle's Roadhouse lit up out front in orange. He vaguely remembered Sam telling him something about neon once, but the thought disappeared on the heels of guilt--he hadn't been there in years, either, hadn't seen Ellen or Jo really except for once in a while when they'd come out to Kansas City to have dinner with Bobby.

Maybe...just maybe he should swing by and see the girls some time before he headed out again. It would be a nice surprise and maybe for once Ellen wouldn't bug him about settling down or Jo wouldn't flirt with him--she was another lady in his life who was more like a sister than potential dating material anymore.

Not far beyond that and off down a few side roads from the highway was their intended destination: the City of Lawrence Police Department. The building was stained and aging white on the outside, unnecessary embellishments curving around the front entrance in an attempt to look more modern, and it was the first thing Dean noticed as he and Benny strode in. It didn't take long for a woman with shoulder length dark hair, dark eyes, and smile paired with a tightness around her eyes to approach them. A few paces behind her stood a blonde woman with a pony tail and friendly brown eyes "You the FBI boys?" the brunette asked, her voice sounding hopeful as she reached out a hand to greet them. "I'm Sheriff Jody Mills." She nodded back to the woman behind her. "This is Sheriff Donna Hanscum. She's joining us from the Lawrence Police Department on the other side of town."

"Ah, yeah, nice to meet you, Sheriff Mills, Sheriff Hanscum. I'm SSA Dean Winchester, this is SSA Benny Lafitte." Dean shook their hands and stepped back just enough to allow Benny to do the same. "So our team looked over the information you sent us. Sounds like this is urgent, what with the end of another ten days coming. You thinking there's going to be another victim then?" he asked carefully.

Sheriff Mills shrugged. "I was hoping you could tell me. We don't have any new missing persons reports and I'm nearly at my wit's end here, trying to keep the whole town from panicking. And here we haven't even got a good theory behind these killings, let alone any leads."

Dean and his team had talked until late into the night, tossing theories around. The scenes had strange symbols that appeared to possibly be religious in nature, and Kevin was looking into that. He was also looking into the possibility of there being special meaning behind ten day intervals, as well as investigating any other important numbers found in various religions to see if they could hazard a guess at a possible total number of victims. Charlie was being put to use looking through case files online in search of any similar crimes while Bobby was doing the footwork on old paper files that had never been digitized and brought into the modern world.

Dean was cautious in his reply. "We are currently working on a few theories of our own, Sheriff. Hopefully we'll be able to find this guy soon."

"Guy?" Sheriff Hanscum perked up at that, her accent Minnesotan. "You're thinking it's a man, not a woman?"

Dean shook his head. "We don't know yet, we're still forming a profile. Once we have a little more information, we'll be able to give you one to share."

Sheriff Mills nodded. "What can I do to help for now?" She sounded disappointed, her shoulders slouching forward slightly.

"I'd like to start with the bodies and then move on to the crime scenes, or at least where the bodies were discovered, for now," Dean said, one corner of his mouth curving down. "If we have three victims already, we have to assume he has a fourth. We need to get to work quickly."

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

While they waited on the medical examiner to arrive, Benny struck up a casual conversation to pass the time with a little less murder and mayhem and a little more Southern charm. So with a toothy smile (did anyone ever tell him he had unnaturally pointy teeth, because sometimes Dean thought maybe the man shouldn't smile at people so much in case he freaked someone out) he turned to Donna, as she'd insisted they call her, and drawled, "So Donna, you don't sound like you're from 'round here."

Donna shot him a friendly smile and shook her head. "Nope, I'm not! I'm from Minnesota, moved here after my divorce. Much happier here in Kansas. You don't sound local yourself."

"Naw," Benny replied, "accent like this? 'Course not. The wife and I transplanted from Nawlins--that's _New Orleans_ \--" he said, stressing a closer to non-native pronunciation, "a bit after Dean here saved my hide. Been here ever since."

Donna's face fell a bit at the mention of a wife and she glanced down at Dean's left hand. Donna was pretty enough, but he hadn't been interested in a real date in quite some time, so Dean tucked his hands into his pockets. Not quite quick enough, unfortunately, and Donna caught a glimpse of the empty left-hand ring finger. "What about you, handsome, married too?"

Dean smiled a tiny bit. "To my job, unfortunately for the ladies." Benny snickered, and Dean shot him a dirty look. This was not the time for casual flirting for any of them.

"I know how that is."

Just then, the door to the room swung open, and Dean thanked his lucky stars for the distraction, which would hopefully steer them back on task--except that when he looked up, he bit back a curse and took back any thought he'd ever had about _ever_ being lucky.

In strode a man in scrubs, a little bit shorter than Dean, tousled dark hair that looked as though he'd just come from a hookup in a supply closet, and a pair of the bluest eyes he had ever seen. Dean didn't even know eyes came in that kind of blue. He felt his heart and lungs stop at the same moment, and he must have been making some sort of face because Benny jostled him hard, bumping into his shoulder. It was enough to shake him out of his daze, and Dean took a breath finally, his heart thumping painfully as he glanced over at Benny with a 'Dude what?' look. He tried (and failed) to smooth down his ruffled feathers as Jody introduced them to one Dr. Castiel Novak.

Dean was slow and more than a little uncoordinated as he thrust his hand out to shake the doctor's hand. "U-um, Dean. SSA Dean Winchester." 

Castiel was squinting down and he realized as Benny coughed behind him that he was still clutching Dr. Novak's hand. "Uh..." He let go, turning away quickly to hide the faint red staining his cheeks. "Um...this is SSA Benny Lafitte."

A glance stolen in Benny's direction informed him that the sudden snort he heard was from his direction, and Dean glowered at the back of his head as Benny stepped forward to briefly shake the doctor's hand.

Dr. Novak's brow creased as he glanced in Dean's direction, his eyes narrowing faintly as he inspected the man. Finally he looked away and Dean let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. At this rate, he was going to pass out from oxygen deprivation if he couldn't get his lungs back in working order. "This way, gentlemen."

Oh dear God. The man's voice was gravelly, pure sex.

Benny bumped his shoulder again as they followed a few paces behind him, Dean jerking his gaze away from staring at the doctor's ass. "You've got it bad, brotha," Benny chuckled.

"I do not," Dean hissed at Benny through clenched teeth. Unconsciously, the fingers on his left hand flexed, as though against a lingering ache. 

"And I'm Bill Compton," Benny snorted.

Dean glared and was opening his mouth to reply but was cut off.

"The sheriffs told me you'd like to see the bodies of the victims," Dr. Novak said as he led the way down the hall to the storage section of the morgue. He seemed oblivious of Dean and Benny's conversation behind him. "Although I will warn you, they are very gruesome to behold. Are you certain you wish to see them?"

Dean nodded before remembering that he was staring at the back of Dr. Novak's head. "Ah, yeah. Yeah, we've seen the pictures, but we feel like there's something missing from seeing only the flat version. And from what I've heard, you might have quite a bit you can share with us."

He hazarded a glance backwards at the two ladies with them--both of them were grinning at him. Shit, they'd seen his whole awkward performance, and knowing what was obviously his _crappy_ luck, they'd probably heard his exchange with Benny. Fuck his life, he wasn't into the dude! He wasn't!

The ache in his hand became real suddenly, and air hissed through his teeth. Dr. Novak paused and threw a look back at him. "Something wrong, Agent?"

Dean's fingers forcefully squeezed at his hand, trying to push the ache out. "It's nothing. Let's go."

 

 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

It was, as Dean anticipated, a little chilly in the refrigeration room, and he tucked up the collar on his jacket. FBI issued, stating as much on the back, it didn't provide quite the same warmth as his favorite leather jacket, and he felt exceedingly put out at yet another part of himself this job denied him. A glance downward reminded him with a stab to the gut that he was also stuck in a suit and tie when he would have preferred his casual wardrobe any day. Remind him again why he took this job?

Dr. Novak had pulled on gloves and was counting doors over, and Dean's eyes were anywhere but his ass as he leaned down, he made sure of it. The doctor grabbed a handle, twisting and swinging a door open, and Dean finally allowed himself a glance. He could see toes poking out from the small case, tag wrapped around...well, what was left of a big toe. Dean's stomach churned very slightly.

Sliding the corpse out, Dr. Novak lifted the sheet from the face. "Alan Corbett," he said, although it was unnecessary. Dean recognized the pale face from photographs. "The other two, Jake Talley and Andy Gallagher, are also here if you'd like to see them as well."

Dr. Novak began to catalog injuries, starting with the head. He turned Corbett's body slightly, rotating it so Dean and Benny had a clear view of a clean indent on the back of the head. "Blunt force trauma to the parietal bone. I'm uncertain of the exact weapon used to inflict it as of yet--it does not match anything from my databases or my memory. I believe it was intended to incapacitate the victim, rendering them unconscious." He pulled the sheet down further, continuing. "The wound inflicted to the anterior of the neck is the cause of death. The sharp implement that caused this wound caused all other cuts on the victims, as well, and though we haven't determined the exact weapon as of yet, we know it has a curved blade. The wounds are more shallow at the edges, deeper in the center."

Dean's eyes locked on the gaping wound at the neck, his mind fighting to force unwanted memories to the surface that he was fighting just as valiantly to force back when he heard, "There wasn't much blood in the photos of the crime scenes." Thank God for Benny stepping up to the plate. "That seems inconsistent with this sort of wound."

"There wasn't much at the crime scene, true," Jody confirmed.

"Which means that the locations where the bodies were discovered were secondary crime scenes. They weren't killed there," Benny concluded. His eyes slid over Dr. Novak's face. "Did you find anything on the bodies hinting at where they may have been before then?"

Dr. Novak gave a terse nod. "There was some unfamiliar plant matter on the clothing of the victims, as well as trace stains. We are still awaiting analysis from the lab."

Benny motioned for Dr. Novak to continue on the body. "I believe this to be from a large meat-hook, but it appears to be custom-made due its diameter being an unusual 6.66 inches." Dr. Novak was at the shoulders, pointing at two roughly circular wounds that seemed to be the start and finish of the same wound.

Benny's brows shot up, but Dean's eyes barely flickered down as he weakly joked, "Could you be more exact, Spock?"

The doctor's brow crinkled as his eyes narrowed at Dean. "I don't understand that reference. Who is Spock?" was what his voice said, but his eyes spoke volumes more, practically screaming at Dean, 'What are you, a total idiot?' Dean distantly noted this grave oversight in pop culture knowledge, but for now he had a job he was trying to force himself to focus on, rather than the wound splitting the victim's neck open like a grim second smile. Benny motioned for Dr. Novak to continue again, and his eyes dragged away from Dean as he went back to noting injuries.

Aside from the first three wounds, the body of Alan Corbett was covered in multiple small cuts and bruises that matched two-inch-long chain links. Also marring the victim's skin was another set of holes near his stomach like the ones on his shoulder, the injuries covering the victim's body were a gruesome picture of even a sliver of the torture this young man had been inflicted with. Dean let out a harsh breath slowly, running his hands over his pant legs.

"Dean? Are you okay?" That was Benny.  
  
"I'm fine," was the only hoarse reply he could force out, even he knew he didn't sound fine.

So young, that life cut short before he even had a chance to really live, just like another young life, another life shrouded in white at the end. White, slit open in a thin line of crimson across a soft belly, stain slowly spreading as the life bled out of her.

The edges of his vision began creeping in on him, going dark, and he could hear someone breathing in short, harsh pants. The smell of smoke began to burn in his nose and he could feel it stinging in his eyes when he heard someone call out his name. He no longer had it in him to reply, and his stomach churned wildly as he choked on rising bile.

A hand latched onto his right shoulder, gripping tightly as he tried to flinch away, and he could feel himself being dragged. His feet stumbled under him but he followed numbly before he was forced to bend almost in half over a deep metal sink, and in that same moment, the meager contents of his stomach--lousy coffee and a couple of doughnuts--were forcibly ejected from his mouth. The water turned on and a cold, wet cloth pressed against the back of his neck. He coughed, spitting as he slowly came back to himself.

The presence on his right was matched by another person at his left, and he glanced from one side to the other out of the corners of his eyes. Dr. Novak on the right--well that was mortifying--and Benny at his left, and he could hear Benny talking to him in a low voice. "C'mon, brotha, deep breaths."

Dr. Novak's eyes were narrowed at him. "You brought a new guy into my morgue to make that the first body he ever sees?" he demanded of Benny and Benny held up one hand--Dean wasn't sure if it was to stop Dr. Novak or defend Dean--but Dean'd had enough.

"'M not a 'new guy'," he finally managed to cough out in a snarl, wiping the back of his hand against his mouth. He swayed, Benny reaching out to steady him, and he turned a scowl on him as he pushed him away. "Are we done here? I think SSA Lafitte and I should go see the secondary crime scenes."

 

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Back at the car, Dean had to push Benny away a second time as the bulky Cajun tried to reach for the keys. "'M fine to drive, Benny. It was just kind of a shock."

The look Benny was giving him was full of sympathy and he opened his mouth.

"Don't," Dean cut him off. "It's in the past. I'm fine. I can do my job, man."

"I wasn't gonna say ya couldn't." Thankfully he dropped it at that.

As they moved to leave, however, that annoyingly hot head of messy hair appeared at the driver's side and knuckles rapped on the window. Dean sighed loudly, rolling the window down. "Whaddya want now, doc?"

"I'm going with you."

"You're wh--I'm fine, doc. I don't need you to babysit me."

Ocean blue eyes narrowed at him dangerously and Dean snorted. "To help show you around the crime scene. I happen to know more than just dead bodies," Dr. Novak elaborated.

Dean sighed before unlocking the door begrudgingly. "Get in." After Dr. Novak climbed in and Dean relocked the doors, he glanced at Dr. Novak in the rearview mirror. 

Dr. Novak took the opportunity to change the topic on the way to the crime scene, distracting Dean enough to almost make him forget his embarrassing display in the morgue. "Is this your car, Agent?"

"Heck no," Dean was quick to reply. At a stop light, he passed back his phone with a picture of his own car pulled up. "That's my Baby. '67 Chevy Impala, black with chromium accents."

"Mm. Seems inefficient."

Dean gaped at the rearview mirror. "Did you....did you just insult my car?? What do you drive?"

"A Prius."

"I should have figured. You drive an ugly car and have the nerve to insult mine."

"I said it seemed inefficient. They don't get particularly good gas mileage, after all. I didn't say it wasn't pretty."

Dean could only open and close his mouth like a fish, his eyes locked on the mirror, until someone honked behind him impatiently to alert him to the green light. Benny chuckled and Dean shot him a glare that screamed, 'Don't even'.

He spared another glance at the mirror. The man had called him a newbie, had insulted his car. Two strikes against him already. Wait a minute... "You don't have to patronize me by calling my car 'pretty'," he finally managed to fire back.  Three strikes, Dean was definitely not on top of his game, and this guy was definitely annoying.

But still, he had volunteered his services at the crime scene, even if it was a thinly disguised excuse to check on him.

The corner of Dr. Novak's mouth curved up. "I would never patronize you, Agent."

Dean rolled his eyes.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Dean was no longer certain that Dr. Novak had tagged along to keep an eye on him. At the crime scene, he had immediately jumped to work, pointing out where the first body had been found. "The position the body was initially found in when I was called was a position reminiscent of a victim stretched upon a rack."

"Not a Crucifixion pose?" Benny asked, peering around as if he expected to find something else.

"No, the victim's legs would have been together, and they were slightly spread."

"Any signs of sexual assault?"

Dr. Novak shook his head. "This wasn't even remotely sexual. We found unfamiliar DNA on the lips of the victims when I swabbed them, but nothing beyond that."

"Did you make anything of the words under the victims? We haven't deciphered the entire thing yet," Dean put in.

"How much have you deciphered?" Dr. Novak asked, glancing up at Dean.

Dean pulled up the text from Kevin on his phone. " _Et ad congregandum..._ "

Dr. Novak's mouth fell open slightly. "Ask him to compare the rest of it to ' _eos coram me_ '." He spelled it out for Dean and the green-eyed Agent looked up at him, finally the one with the chance to make the other man squirm with a piercing look.

"Something you want to share with the class, doc?"

"And I will gather them in front of me."

"Gather who?"

"That's what the Latin means. I didn't get a good look at the drawings with them, but..." he pulled out a notepad from his pocket, along with a pen, scribbling something down and tearing it off, handing it to Dean. "Did it look like that?" The image resembled a diamond with six lines extending from the sides, ending in circles.

"Similar." Benny was leaning over Dean's shoulder. "It had another at the top, I think."

Dr. Novak turned pale.

"Spit it out, doc." Dean's patience was wearing thin, and he suddenly understood Dr. Novak's earlier impatience with him.

"I think your killer was trying to summon a demon."

Shit. Another one of those psychos.

 

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Dean and Benny had done what they could for the moment, forwarding information to Charlie and Kevin back at the office, searches into hardware purchases, weapons with curved blades, missing persons cases of similar descriptions to the victims, and satanic rituals. Rufus and Bobby had gone off on another case, one involving Japan and fox symbology, and Dean had called long enough to wish them luck. But it was growing late and Dean had dropped Dr. Novak back at the office to get his own car before leaving Benny at a diner just a walk up the road from their little motel. He'd shoved a wad of cash in Benny's hand--the man knew his tastes well enough to know what to get him--but the Cajun didn't leave him right away.

"You gonna visit 'em, brotha?"

Dean nodded, distracted.

"Which one you gonna see first?"

"Her."

Benny had nodded at that, not even bothering to complain at Dean leaving him to get food and walk back on his own. He'd seen the fights for years, but he couldn't begrudge his friend visiting folks, despite the fact that they seemed to not get along.

Dean wandered aimlessly up and down the streets for a while before he finally pulled to a stop outside of the local cemetery. It was past dark, the gates were closed...Dean knew he should just go. But whatever possessed him instead led to him parking the Chevy and hauling himself up and over the top of the fence, dropping down into the dirt like he'd scaled the gate a million times. Probably because he'd done it pretty damn close to that much.

The flashlight from the car's emergency kit was enough to light his path, although he could have found his way in the pitch dark with his eyes closed just fine, his feet drawing him up the hill to a large stone headstone that bore the name Campbell. Beyond it stood a smaller one--Mary Winchester--with a carved stone figure of an angel hovering over it.

A faint smile touched his lips, and Dean breathed out a sigh. "Hi, Mom." He crouched by the headstone, fingers lightly brushing against the surface. Some of the headstones were well-worn by lichen by now, but this headstone and this figure were well-cared for. This was one thing his dad had done right. He straightened, uncertain of what to say after so many years away. "I still miss you every day. We got him, you know. I got him. With Dad." He grimaced slightly. He didn't want to tell his mom that he and John didn't get along, even if they could manage to work together long enough to get a job done. It would have broken her heart. "I kept doing it after that, catching bad guys. Dad retired a year ago, though. And yeah, I'm gonna go see him, too. I promise."

He reached up carefully to run his hand against the stone angel when he heard leaves crunch behind him. "What are you doing here?"

Dean whipped around, his hand on his gun as he swung the flashlight around. The voice had been familiar, and despite the hand flung up to shade his eyes, Dean could see dark hair mocking him. "Jesus Christ, Doc, I nearly shot you. Don't sneak up on a guy!" He lowered the flashlight.

"I wanted to make certain that you were not a vandal desecrating this grave. I'm not from around here originally, but I've been invited to enough funerals of victims that I am familiar with this statue and am rather fond of it. Some people, unfortunately, have no respect for the dead," Dr. Novak replied, and Dean hazarded a glance back the statue. "What are you doing here?"

Dean frowned. That was none of Dr. Novak's business. Dr. Novak seemed to note his reluctance to answer, watching him with that same scrutinizing squint from before before he finally pointed back down the path. "You and I should go before Frank finds us here. He becomes extremely agitated when he finds people about the cemetery after dark."

Dean shuddered at childhood memories of the crazy old guy who always seemed to spout off conspiracy theories about the government. God forbid the guy ever found out that Dean was working for 'The Man' now. He'd never hear the end of it. "Fine. Warp speed, Mr. Sulu, take us home."

"Your pop culture references are annoying."

"Would you rather I say, 'Lead on MacDuff'?"

"It's 'Lay on, MacDuff'. And would you even be able to tell me what it's from?"

Dean's opinion of the man had started to soften a bit at the admittance of his fondness for the angel, but that tore it. He turned on the man suddenly with a snarl. "Look, buddy, I know I'm just another faceless brawny fed to you, but I'm _not_ stupid! I catch killers and psychos for a living which means you not only have to find the clues, you have to figure them out and piece them together in a short time frame before you end up with another victim on your hands. I started doing that kind of thinking when I was kid just to be ready to take on this because I knew this was exactly what I wanted to do!" A lie. John wanted him to do it. What he wanted was for John to see him the way he seemed to see his little brother when John seemed to place the blame for everything wrong in his life squarely on Dean's shoulders, something he'd done ever since Dean was four years old. He'd thought following in John's footsteps would get him that, but it hadn't. "And now we probably have another man out there being tortured by this bastard and we don't even have a name or face yet!"

But Dr. Novak held up his hands in a placating manner, looking more than a little sorry, and Dean deflated. "My apologies, Agent. It was meant in jest, but my brother tells me I am terrible at making a joke."

That was a joke? "Yeah, I'd have to say I agree with your brother there, Doc. That was terrible. And it's MacBeth, by the way. Although I'm more of a Vonnegut man myself."

A smile spread across Dr. Novak's face as he nodded. Dean climbed the gate partway before reaching down to offer Dr. Novak a hand and pulling him up, pulling himself to the other side and dropping down rather gracefully. Dr. Novak, however, fell in a tangle of flailing limbs, and Dean jumped forward to catch him. Dr. Novak clung to his neck, fear tight in the corners of his mouth and eyes, and Dean chuckled just little. "I think I caught a fallen angel. Angel of death, maybe, but an angel. Someone clipped your wings, that's the only way I can figure why you're so clumsy."

Dr. Novak smacked his shoulder. "Thank you for your assistance, but I am capable of standing on my own two feet now. And don't be such an assbutt." Dean chuckled and obliged, setting him down and snorting as Dr. Novak straightened his clothes.

"We really need to work on your insults."

It was Dr. Novak's turn to snort. "But it fits you so well, Agent," he replied.

"It's Dean, Doc. Just call me Dean."

Dr. Novak tilted his head to peer at Dean for a few moments. "Then call me Castiel."

"Casti-Cas-Cast--" Dean stumbled over it. "Your name is a mouthful. I'm just gonna call you Cas."

"I suppose that it's better than what my brother calls me."

"What's that?"

"Cassie."

Dean couldn't stop himself from bursting out laughing.

Instead of getting angry, however, a small smile curved the corner of Castiel's mouth, sharing in Dean's amusement over the unfortunate nickname. He wasn't sure what urged him to ask, but before he could stop himself, he was saying, "Have you had any dinner yet, Dean?"

"Uh..." Dean looked faintly nervous for a moment. "I...I can't."

Castiel's face fell.

"I have somewhere to be and Benny's already picked up somethin' for me."

Where did Dean have to be at this hour of the night?

Dean could see it in Castiel's eyes, the man mentally retreating, so he rushed to add, stammering, "B-but um....rain check for later? I wouldn't mind getting a bite sometime, it's just, you know....short notice." That was awkward. So painfully, incredibly awkward.

Castiel seemed to accept this, nodding and offering Dean a faint smile and a quiet, "Okay."

"Okay," Dean echoed. "I'll see you later, Cas."

"Goodbye, Dean."

 

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Dean returned to his weaving along the streets with no real direction, his cell phone mocking him from the dashboard of the SUV.  He couldn't avoid him forever and if he found out that Dean had been in town and hadn't said anything or stopped by, he would have to listen to him yell over the phone--probably while drunk. With an irritated sigh, Dean finally jammed the button on the steering wheel for the bluetooth. "Call Dad."

Dean gritted his teeth and waited as the phone rang over the speaker system. He could only hope that John was already asleep or too drunk to answer the phone, but as his day had already been proving, luck was truly not on his side.

"Whozat? Who's calling at this hour?" Dean's eyes flicked to the clock on the dash. It wasn't even 8:30 yet.

"Hi, Dad." Dean was honestly a bit surprised he didn't choke; his voice was level and even.

"Dean?" Already on his way to drunk, by the sound of it.

"Yeah."

"Why're you calling?"

"I'm in town, Dad. On work, but I thought I could swing by...." Dean took a deep breath to try to settle his nerves and steel his roiling gut, "....this evening and see you for a bit." Get it out of the way now and forget it for the rest of his stay here, right?

"Sure, Dean. You can come by now."

It was only a short drive to the house, situated on the opposite end of town from the one they'd lived in when Dean was little. It was painfully obvious to Dean as he pulled up how little John had done with it, though--paint chipping, grass and weeds growing long, loose tree branches. Dean could see the garbage bin in front of the garage, nearly spilling over with beer bottles. Fuck, this was a bad idea. But too late to back out now because the front door was opening and John was there on the steps with a beer in hand.

When Dean climbed out, his father's gaze hung heavy on him. "Come on in, son, grab a beer."

"I can't drink right now, Dad. I'm here for work." Dean didn't elaborate. John knew what Dean meant, but Dean knew it never stopped John from drinking on the job.

John snorted. "Suit yourself." John sat in the worn armchair in the living room and Dean awkwardly shifted on his feet before sitting on the edge of the tattered couch. "You seeing anyone yet?"

Dean's senses immediately clicked to high alert and he had to catch himself before his breathing picked up in pace. "No, Dad. No time, remember? Not now that I run the unit. Married to the job."

"Why not that Charlie girl? You two were always friends."

Because she was a self-labeled raging queer, maybe? John didn't need to know that; his opinions on gay people were ones he was pretty damn vocal about, which Dean knew a little too well. He bit back a curse and tried not to hiss through his teeth as the ache in his hand returned full-force. "She's seeing someone."

"Why not Jo then? She was always fond of you."

"That would be like dating my sister."

There was a sudden glint in John's eye and Dean didn't like it. "You know, that Aaron boy's been asking about you."

There it was; Dean saw it for the trap it was and his breathing stuttered slightly as he scrambled for something--the right thing--to say as he felt heat creeping up the back of his neck.

"And that's my problem how?" he finally settled on, praying he wouldn't regret it.

Apparently it was good enough because a faint smile lit of the corners of John's mouth. "See? Told you it was gonna be okay. Told you I was gonna fix you and I did."

Dean felt nauseous, sparing a glance down at his hand as his stomach lurched. He fidgeted uncomfortably. He needed an excuse to leave, any excuse at all, and although he wasn't much one for praying, praying was a better option than staying right now. 

Dean's luck finally decided to turn itself around when the phone stashed in his pocket began to ring and he grabbed for it. Benny. Dean decided maybe there was a God, and he nodded toward the phone. "Gotta take this," he said, stepping into John's kitchen. He wrinkled his nose, looking around the cramped and filthy space, covered in grease and dust with beer bottles strewn everywhere. "What's up Benny?"

"Chief, your food is getting cold. Where the hell are ya?"

"You are a godsend, man, I love you."

"Thanks, but I'm married."

Dean laughed softly, to keep John from hearing.

"What did I do?"

"Had perfect timing, dude." A smile eased briefly across Dean's mouth. He cleared his throat, raising his voice slightly. "Right now, Benny?"

Benny caught on quick. "Yeah, brotha, right now. Before your food is as cold as the victims in Dr. Novak's morgue."

Dean coughed. "What's cold is your sense of humor. But I'm on my way." He held up the phone as he stepped back into the living room by way of explanation. "That was Benny, I gotta go, Dad. Sorry I didn't get to stay long."

John squinted at him, but since it _was_ Benny and Benny _did_ want him to go, it wasn't a lie, and John was too drunk already to push it. "Alright, come by again before you leave. And give me a call if you need me to help set you straight again."

Dean winced at John's wording. Like hell Dean was calling. He was going to try his hardest to avoid visiting again, too.

Before Dean could even fully process what he was doing, he was already back in the SUV and on the road, fleeing from John's sight as fast as he could.

Dean didn't eat that night. His appetite was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know there are inconsistencies with people and places. I am trying to use canon characters, especially dead ones and living ones as (mostly) appropriate. Sorry if this chapter seems to jump around. I'm trying to hint at things without giving it all away from the get-go. Set-up and all, you know.


	3. The Demon King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean gets a little more information and hangs out with Cas. He also gets some more leads.

A check-in the next morning produced very few results--no credit card purchases that revealed anything suspicious and no missing persons cases nearby from the necessary date to fit their timeline. Charlie had expanded her search for curved blades out from weapons to other objects and had forwarded her list to Castiel for his input in comparison to the wound tracks.

Kevin's research into satanic rituals finally found a little bit of information, thanks to Castiel's seeming knowledge on that topic as well. Unfortunately, it wasn't just any average or low-level demon their killer was trying to summon. According to Kevin, they were trying to summon the ruler of Hell themself. 

But then Jody called in a panic shortly after. A note had been sent to the police station.

 

 

> "I see you've got a little muscle from Squirrel."
> 
>                         -The Demon King

 

"Who the hell is 'Squirrel'?" Dean grumbled under his breath, reading and rereading the note. It didn't seem like the guy was just trying to summon the ruler of Hell, it seemed like he thought _he_ was the ruler of Hell. But how did that explain the rituals then? Unless he was trying to claim his supposed power from Hell or whatever.

Benny leaned over his shoulder, staring down at the note. "'Squirrel'. Ya know anyone who gets called that?" he asked, glancing at Donna as she joined them.

Donna shrugged one shoulder, reaching up to tie her blond hair back. "Closest I can think is that folks around here call Frank up at the cemetery 'squirrelly'. But he's just an old kook and a conspiracy theorist. I sincerely doubt he could be a murderer. He kinda lost it years ago when his wife and kids were murdered, but he's pretty harmless despite that."

Benny nodded, but Dean rubbed his face, thinking out loud. "Do any of the victims have any family in the area that we could talk to?"

Jody opened the three files on the table. "Talley has no known family, we've already spoken to Corbett's boyfriend, Ed Zeddmore, as well as Gallagher's mother, Holly Beckett. Gallagher also has a brother, Ansen Weems, but we couldn't reach him for comment." She frowned a little. "Do you think one of them might understand the squirrel reference?"

"I hope so," Dean offered, although it sounded lame even to his ears. 

 

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The first stop was by Holly Beckett's house, and Benny knocked on the door, stepping back to wait. A blond woman in her early forties was who answered the door, and Dean gave her a polite smile as he and Benny held up their badges. "FBI, SSA Winchester and SSA Lafitte. Are you Holly Beckett?"

She nodded, swiping at reddened eyes with a tissue. "You must be here about my son."

Dean nodded. "Please allow us to express our condolences, Mrs. Beckett."

"It's Ms. Beckett, actually. Please come in, agents." Ms. Beckett stepped back, allowing Benny and Dean into the house before leading the way into her living room. "Would you gentleman like something to drink?"

"No thank you, Ms. Beckett. When was the last time you saw your son?" Dean replied.

"The day he went missing, in the morning." Ms. Beckett frowned and wiped her eyes again. "Come to think of it..."

"What is it, Ms. Beckett? Whatever it is could be important," Benny pressed gently.

She shook her head slightly. "I....the day Andrew was found dead was actually the last day I saw his twin brother, Ansen."

"Twin?" Dean asked. The boys had different last names.

"Oh, I had them when I was young and gave them up for adoption. They recently came back into my life but I--" Ms. Beckett cut off with a sob, scrubbing at her eyes, "I'm sorry, Agents, it's been a hard few weeks now."

"Are you saying that Ansen in missing, Ms. Beckett?" Dean asked urgently.

Ms. Beckett raised her thin shoulders in a shrug. "I don't know. He and Andrew don't live here, but I usually see them several days a week for dinner. Sometimes Ansen will skip for weeks at a time. I think he's depressed and he gets angry." Another sob choked out of her throat. "Oh God, I should call him." She snatched her purse from a chair, pawing around for her cell phone. Her call went straight to voicemail, and she peered up at Dean and Benny with tear-filled eyes. "I-It could be nothing, I mean..."

"Would you like for us to send someone to check in on him?" Dean asked, and Ms. Beckett nodded.

"Please."

"Does 'squirrel' mean anything to you or your sons, Ms. Beckett?" Benny asked, and Ms. Beckett's response was a only a very confused, wide-eyed look on her face at first.

"Squirrel?" She shook her head slowly. "No, I don't think so. What's so important about a squirrel?"

Dean frowned slightly. "I'm not sure yet, Ms. Beckett. I'm trying to find out, that's why I asked."

Benny and Dean asked a few more questions before calling Jody to send a patrol by Ansen Weems' apartment, and they headed to the other side of town to talk to the late Alan Corbett's boyfriend. 

Upon reaching the house, Dean immediately had a weird feeling about the place, a feeling that only intensified as he and Benny stepped inside the house the two had shared. White rolling boards around the room had articles, photos, and other information in regards to supposed supernatural occurrences, and Benny wandered over to one when Dean asked for a glass of water. Dean joined him, his eyes skating over the gathered information stuck up on the board with magnets, but what caught his eye was an image that was similar to the small image that Castiel had drawn for them the day before, the star with the circles extending outward.

Ed came back into the room, pausing when he saw Dean and Benny standing at that board. "That was the last case he was working on. Really fascinating, but demons aren't my thing. Ghosts are."

Dean turned, accepting the glass with a small thanks before he squinted at Ed. "Ghosts?"

Ed nodded. "We've been tracking stories about supernatural and paranormal phenomena all over the country. This one was Alan's. He found a slew of cases from ten and twenty years ago in other states, so I let him run with it and make it his baby."

Dean and Benny glanced at one another. "Ten and twenty years ago? Are you sure?"

Ed nodded.

"Do you have his research?" Dean asked. This could be a possible lead!

Ed nodded again. "Give me a moment."

Ed disappeared down the hall, and when he returned, he was carrying a file box, which he dropped on the table in front of Dean. Peering down into the box, he bit his lip, tears filling his eyes before he dashed them away. "Sorry..."

Benny shook his head. "Ya don't got ta apologize, ya lost yer boyfriend. I'd be cryin' too if I lost my wife," he assured, and Ed shot him a grateful smile before he slid the box toward Dean.

"This is all of his research. I'm sorry there isn't more."

Dean picked up a file and flipped through. "No, Mr. Zeddmore, this might be more helpful than you think."

"It's just Ed, sir, and if it helps you catch the bastard who did this, then good. Take it."

"One more question, Ed?" Dean said, and Ed nodded.

"Anything I can do to help, Agent."

"Does 'squirrel' mean anything to you, or did it mean anything to Alan?"

Ed's brow scrunched as he thought before he finally shook his head. "No, not that I'm aware of. I'm sorry I couldn't have been more helpful."

They thanked Ed and left, only to be stopped by Dean's phone ringing. It was Jody. "We stopped by Ansen Weems' apartment. No one's been there in more than a week, Dean."

"Damn."

"I know. What's more is....well, there's a lot of creepy stuff we found in there."

"Stuff?" Dean asked. "What kind of 'stuff'?"

"If I didn't know better, devil worship stuff."

Dean swore again. "I think you should send out a team again to search Gallagher and Talley's apartments again."

"You think we might find a connection?" Jody asked.

"Yeah. Yeah, I do. The first victim's boyfriend gave me files from research that the victim was doing. It has pictures of those same symbols from the crime scene."

Jody blew out a breath. "Actually, that's what we're looking at over here at Weems' apartment, too. Okay, Dean, copy that. Search teams will be sent back out there as soon as possible."

 

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Dean and Benny headed back to the precinct with the research in tow to start getting it organized, first by making lists of the victims that Corbett had collected and sending them off to Charlie to look into, and second by comparing it to photos that had been taken in Weems' apartment. It wasn't surprising the number of similarities, and while Dean was still waiting on more thorough information on the victims, long past and current, he had a pretty good idea of what they had in common now.

"Benny, I think all of these guys were dabbling in devil worship."

Benny grimaced. "Lookin' that way, brotha."

Dean nodded. "Corbett was probably putting the pieces together, you know? And just either got too close or was in the wrong place at the wrong time doing research. Poor kid." 

Benny nodded and they went back to poring over the research. It was beginning to get late when Charlie finally got back to them on past victims Corbett had dug up before his untimely death, and as Dean was making a note to buy a particularly nice thank you gift for her, he was surprised when a hand landed on his shoulder. He jumped, looking up into blue eyes. 

"U-um, Cas! Hello!" Dean exclaimed nervously, fidgeting and quickly looking away. He saw Castiel smile out of the corner of his eye, the smug bastard. He was _enjoying_ how uncomfortable he was making Dean feel!

"Hello, Dean. I was about to go get some dinner and was wondering if you'd perhaps like to take a break to join me?"

Shit. Um....um....Dean glanced around at the table in front of him, scrambling for something to say. "W-well, we just got in a bunch of research and Benny needs--"

Benny cut him off with an amused smirk. "Y'all go to dinner. I'll stay and look for now and catch ya up later, _Chief_." He winked at Dean and Dean barely restrained himself from slugging Benny's shoulder out of spite. 

"What about food, man? You gotta eat, too," Dean said.

Benny shook his head. "I'll order in, y'all go." He grinned up at Castiel and Dean glanced his way, catching relief in his features that Benny had turned down the invite. 

Dean glanced in Jody and Donna's direction with a pleading look, and both ladies smiled and waved. "Have a good time, boys!" was all Donna said, so Dean swallowed hard and turned back to Cas after schooling his features back into a less desperately frightened expression.

"I, uh, I guess that means it's just you 'n me, then?"

Castiel smiled. "It does, Dean. I'd like to take you to a place that makes the best burgers in the world."

Dean perked at this. Burgers? Another check in the plus column for Cas. "Oh yeah? Where we headin'?" His nerves were forgotten with the promise of food.

"It's a surprise."

 

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Cas' surprise, in the end, was not as much of a surprise as it should have been as he pulled into the parking lot under the orange sign (which was actually neon, by the way).

Dean groaned, looking up at the sign.

"Something wrong?" Castiel asked, hazarding a glance at Dean.

"Uh, yeah. You said they make the best burgers."

"Yes, I did."

"Sorry, man, I have bad news. They make the second best burgers."

Castiel frowned a little. "Who makes the best ones, then?"

Dean grinned as he climbed out of the car. "Me, of course."

Castiel looked skeptical, following after Dean into The Roadhouse. "How do you know?"

Dean turned his grin back toward Castiel. "Because everyone says so. But these'll do." He held the door for Castiel, allowing the slightly shorter man in ahead of him.

Castiel smiled at the waitress on staff tonight, a short but energetic blond he knew as Jo. She waved across the restaurant. "Hey, Castiel! I'll--" She cut off suddenly, skidding to a halt. "Son of a bitch!"

"Joanna Beth!" a female voice shouted from the kitchen, and when an older woman stuck her head out to continue yelling, she, too, stopped when she saw what, or rather who, Jo was looking at.

Castiel glanced among the three of them, feeling very confused, his confusion only growing as Jo suddenly crossed the room to them, her expression stormy with anger. She reared back before throwing a fist across Dean's face. "Dean!" Castiel gasped in alarm, reaching for the agent as Dean nearly crumpled. 

"Fuck, Jo! What the hell was that for!" Dean yowled, clutching at his cheek where a bruise was already beginning to blossom.

"That was for disappearing and never coming back, jackass!"

An instant later, Ellen was across the room, grabbing both of them by an ear. "Both of you, watch your mouths! Jo, go to the kitchen and get some ice!"

The short blond glared at Dean but was wise enough to not disobey Ellen, scampering off. 

"Dean, sweetheart? You alright?" Ellen lifted his chin, peering at the injury.

"You sure taught that girl how to swing, Ellen," Dean chuckled mirthlessly as Ellen accepted the ice Jo brought her before she disappeared back into the kitchen, and Ellen pressed the ice to his cheek. 

"Well, despite Jo's warm welcome, I'm always happy to see you, Dean."

"Thanks, Ellen. I appreciate it."

She glanced past him at his company, a small smirk perking one corner of her mouth. "That's not your usual company. What are you doing with the doc?"

"Uh, he invited me to dinner because the case Benny and I are here on is kicking our as--our butts."

Ellen peered around. "And you didn't bring Benny with you?" she asked, lightly smacking his arm.

Dean rolled his eyes. "He said he'd order in and told me to take a break."

"Oh," was Ellen's reply before her eyes lit up and a slow smile spread across her face. "OH!"

"Oh?" Dean asked, scrunching his brow. Dean glanced from Ellen to Cas, and then his eyes widened abruptly. "Oh, god Ellen! We're friends! I'm not....I mean...!"

Ellen chuckled at his discomfort and patted his arm as he squirmed. "That's good, the doc needs friends. Go have a seat over there," she said, pointing at an empty booth. "You two are a good fit. You have the same usual."

Dean refused to meet Castiel's eyes as he slid into the booth on one side. 

"Same usual?" Castiel asked, tilting his head in a way that made Dean's stomach flutter in a way he refused to recognize. 

"Guess that'd be a bacon cheeseburger with fries."

"Well, yes, I assumed that given your response to the offer of burgers to begin with, but I wasn't aware you had a usual here."

Dean shrugged one shoulder.

"Are you from around here?" Castiel ventured.

Dean shrugged one shoulder again, wincing slightly.

"The angel in the graveyard, that's for someone you know."

Dean dared to shrug just the one shoulder a third time, although the movement was much smaller and very uncertain, before he finally replied so quietly that Castiel nearly missed it, "Yeah. My mom."

Castiel's eyes softened instantly. "Dean, I'm so sorry."

Dean waved a hand in Castiel's general direction, staring hard at the tabletop. "It's fine, Cas. It's been years."

"How did she die?"

Dean picked at an imaginary spot on the tabletop, trying his best to stare a hole into the surface. "Fire." It wasn't a total lie. She'd still been alive right before the fire had finally consumed her.

"I'm--"

"Sorry, yeah, I know."

Castiel took a breath. "Dean, why didn't you tell me you were from Lawrence?"

Dean shrugged, both shoulders this time. "After my mom died, we moved around so much it stopped feeling like home."

Castiel opened his mouth to say something else, but Jo chose that moment to come over and drop their plates in front of them, shooting another glare at Dean. Dean frowned. "Look, Jo. I'm sorry. It's just been..." he glanced at Castiel for a moment "...really busy at work since Dad retired. I'm only here now because I'm here on a case."

She was still frowning at him, but it eased slightly. "Yeah, I guess you had a lot of responsibilities to take over, didn't you?"

Dean nodded.

Jo patted his arm lightly. "You have a phone, Dean. You know how they work. The least you can do is pick up and call. You know my mom loves you and Sam. I do, too, man."

Dean smiled a little. "Yeah, you too, kid."

Castiel felt his heart sink. Sam? Who was Sam? A girlfriend maybe?

"Sam?"

Dean grabbed his burger, stuffing a huge bite into his mouth and chewing slowly, giving himself time to mentally and emotionally regroup before he finally replied, "My brother. We don't see each other much, but he's a big-shot lawyer now."

"I see."

"What about your family? You mentioned a brother before, one who calls you Cassie."

Castiel laughed. "My brother Gabriel. He's a sweets addict and a jerk and I'm very fond of him."

Dean laughed a little, too. "Yeah, brothers are like that, but you love 'em anyway."

Castiel's face fell at that, and Dean wondered what he'd said wrong, but before he could ask, a hand landed on his arm. He looked up into brown eyes, his own green ones skimming over a neatly trimmed brown beard. "Aaron."

Aaron bit his lip before smiling coyly at Dean. "I heard you were back in town, Dean. Thought it was just rumors. Guess it's not, though."

"Yeah, yeah. I'm in town for work." Dean frowned, averting his eyes from Aaron's face. "I, uh, heard about your dad. Sorry about that."

Aaron shrugged slightly. "He and I never really saw eye-to-eye, Dean. Come to think of it, I never saw eye-to-eye with your father, either."

Dean's eyes snapped up to Aaron's face, and his eyes hardened. "Aaron, stop. We were young and stupid, and I was confused. I'm not like that."

Aaron cast a glance at Castiel. "Uh-huh, I can see that."

"Castiel is a colleague and a friend."

Castiel frowned, looking up at Aaron as he replied, "Well, when you're done with your friend..."

Dean shot up out of his seat, shaking Aaron's hand off with a growl. "Stop. I'm not gay, Aaron. We're done, you need to leave."

Aaron snorted, sparing one last glance in Castiel's direction. "Sure, fine. Whenever you decide to move out of Egypt and away from denial, look me up."

After Aaron left, Dean sank back into his seat, letting loose a harsh breath and shoving his fingers into his hair.

"Dean?" Castiel asked gently, afraid to touch him. "Are you alright?"

"Fuckin' peachy, man."

Castiel frowned. "Do you think there's something wrong with being gay?" he finally asked, watching Dean's face as it jerked up and Dean's eyes met his. Dean's face had paled.

"N-no, Cas. There's nothin' wrong with it. I'm just not gay, okay?" He winced, the fingers of his right hand gripping tightly at his left one.

Castiel's frown only deepened, but he nodded. "Okay, Dean. But..." he tilted his head, "would it bother you to know that I'm gay?"

Dean's already pale face went ghost white. "No, Cas. That's fine. You do you."

Cas was unsure of himself, but he nodded slowly. "Okay, Dean. Thank you."

"For what, Cas?"

"For...at least trying to be okay with it?"

"Why wouldn't I be okay with it, Cas? There's nothin' wrong with you bein' gay."

What that left hanging heavy and unspoken in the air, however, was the fact that Dean felt it wasn't okay for him to be that way. Cas sighed, silently berating himself. Why did he have to fall for guys in the closet? Aaron wasn't kidding about the denial.

Dinner was subdued for a while, but Dean, true to form, was soon back to making jokes, laughing, and being sarcastic.

Later, when Castiel was dropping Dean back at the precinct, Dean paused before he climbed out of Castiel's Prius. "Hey, uh, Cas?"

"Yes, Dean?"

"I had a good time, man. Maybe we could do this again some time. I mean...even after I go home, I'm only forty minutes away."

Castiel felt a grin split his face. "Sure, Dean. I'd like that." Maybe there was hope.

 

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Dean had pushed Sam to the back of his mind throughout dinner, but after he'd climbed out of Castiel's Prius, thoughts of his baby brother came back full force. He glanced at the time on his phone, and before he could stop himself, pressed the the button to call Sam.

The phone rang a few times, and when someone picked up, Dean opened his mouth to greet his brother with a cheery, "What up, bitch?" 

But instead, he was met with a feminine voice asking, "Hello, who is this?"

Dean's words died in his throat. "Uh, this is Sam's older brother, Dean. Who are you?"

"His girlfriend, Sarah."

Huh. "Well, Sarah, is Sam around? I kinda need to ask him something."

"Yeah, he's right here, hold on."

A moment later, Sam's familiar voice flooded the line. "Hey, Dean. What's wrong, why are you calling?"

Dean snorted. "Okay, first of all, dude, you have a girlfriend now? And you couldn't be bothered enough to pick up the phone and, I dunno, go, 'Hey Dean, I met someone!'? Second of all, I can't just call my brother 'cause I want to?"

He could almost see Sam's hurt puppy face in his mind as Sam replied, "I-I'm sorry, Dean. I just....know you've been busy and stressed with Dad retiring and I didn't want to bother you with useless stuff."

That was the same excuse he'd given to Jo, and Dean grimaced. "Useless? I think a girlfriend is pretty important, man. Sammy--"

"Dean--" Sam tried to cut him off, but Dean plowed ahead. He didn't do feelings crap much, so he had to get it all off his chest at once or he never would.

" _Sammy_ , you're my little brother and I love you, man, you know that. You and your life, you're not a bother. You can call me any time. I might not always be able to pick up, but I'd be happy to listen to any messages you wanna leave me, and I'll call and text you back when I can. I know you're busy, too, mister fancy pants lawyer, but we used to be close, me and you. I miss that, okay?"

"Yeah, Dean, okay. I'm sorry, I missed you, too. So Sarah said you had something to ask me."

Dean nodded thoughtlessly before clearing his throat and replying with words. "Yeah, I wondered if you ever remembered anybody, like when we were in school or whatever, being called a squirrel." Sam burst out laughing, and Dean glared at his phone as he jerked it away from his ear. "What's so funny?"

"Oh man! There was that creepy dude who would come to town every couple of years or so, remember? Had a funny accent, the guy who sold the weird potions and other stuff...you remember when he sold me that drink thing that made me--" Sam paused, clearing his throat, "--that made me real sick, Dean? And how mad you were?"

"Uh, yeah, vaguely. Is there a point to this?"

"Yeah, he came back one Spring and all of a sudden I was taller than you and he started calling me moose."

"Cute story, but that still doesn't tell me who he called squirrel."

Sam snorted. "Dean, that was _you_."

Dean felt his blood run ice cold. 

"Oh. Thanks, Sam. Do you remember the guy's name?"

"Unfortunately, no, sorry."

"S'alright, Sam. That was plenty helpful. Thanks for the laugh, man." Dean's voice sounded slightly strained.

"No problem, Dean. So, uh. Can I call you later? Maybe some time we could meet up and you could meet Sarah, maybe?"

"Yeah, I'd like that, Sammy. Get some sleep, bitch."

Sam snorted. "Jerk. Love you."

"You too, man."

After Sam hung up, Dean stood there, just staring at his phone. How did this Demon King creep know about something so long ago, Dean had forgotten it? Unless he was that traveling creep with his snake oils and false promises he always seemed to peddle... What the hell was his name?


	4. Into the Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pieces fall together and Dean finds the answer, but one false step could leave him in fatal trouble.

The next morning, Dean called Charlie first thing and was greeted by, "You have reached the Queen of Moondor, who speaks?"

Dean chuckled slightly at her cheery greeting before finally speaking up, "Hey Red."

"What up, bitch?" was Charlie's cheerful response. "You must be calling about those cases."

"You got it."

"Okay, here's what I've got. Six cases over about a two month span, but ten years apart, in Sioux Falls, South Dakota and in Stillwater, Minnesota. How many victims do you have again?"

Dean sighed. "Three as of now. We think there's a fourth in this killer's clutches, though, and we're coming to the end of the next ten day set. I'd ideally like to get this wrapped up before number five has a chance to be snatched. Any ideas why six is important?"

"Dude, think about it. Six, six, six. The number of the devil, one every ten days, and six every ten years. There are tales that if you sell your soul to a demon, you get ten years to live until that demon sends a hell hound to take your soul," Charlie declared. "You can thank Kevin and Benny later for that little tidbit and making the connection."

"Hell hound?" Dean's voice cracked slightly on the end, and he silently berated himself. "So, those marks on the victims?"

"I don't think they're animal, Dean. From what I saw, even from my totally non-expert point of view, they looked like marks from a tool. Question is what."

Dean frowned. "D'you know if Bobby's in cell phone range wherever he and Rufus are?"

"Dunno, why?"

"I need to ask Bobby a question about when I was a kid," Dean sighed.

"And you don't wanna talk to your dad." That wasn't a question but a statement, and Charlie had hit it on the nose exactly.

"No. Saw his drunk ass once already, I'm trying to avoid a second time talking to him if I can."

"Lemme see if I can connect you. You want me to stay on the line?" Charlie replied.

"Yeah. If Bobby has any answers, I need you to start looking, just in case."

The phone line rang and rang for what seemed like forever until Bobby's voice finally came on, snapping a very grouchy, "What the hell you want?"

"Good morning to you, too, sunshine," Dean quipped, and Bobby growled.

"Too early for this shit. Whaddya want, kid?"

"Do you remember a guy who used to come around town when Sam and I were growing up? Called Sam 'Moose', apparently," Dean asked, and he heard Bobby snort.

"Yeah, called you 'Squirrel' as I recall. Kind of a creep, if you ask me."

"So you do remember?" Dean pressed.

"Went by the name of Crowley. Swore up and down his mom was a witch. He sold a lot of potions and snake oils, but he also sold farm equipment to the locals."

Dean's brows shot up at this. "Farm equipment? Charlie, did we compare the wound tracks to farm equipment?"

"No, we did not," Charlie said, "No reason to think of it, I'm on it now, also looking up anything on a Crowley now, too. Got a first name?"

Bobby snorted. "I don't even think Crowley was his name, just a name he used."

"Damn. I'll send you a list in a few minutes, Dean, okay?" Charlie said.

"Thanks, Charlie." He hummed slightly. "I need to call Cas....Dr. Novak."

"Dean, wait, what do you mean, Cas--"

"Call me if you find anything on Crowley or farm equipment, Red! Gotta go!" Dean hung up before any pending questions he _knew_ Charlie was going to ask. He was going to be pinned down whenever he returned home and questioned relentlessly now, so whatever time he could afford to mentally prepare himself for the onslaught, he needed.

Next on his list of phone calls was Jody and Donna, and it was Jody who picked up in her office. "Sheriff Mills! Er, Jody, good morning," Dean greeted. "Anything come of those searches in Talley and Gallagher's apartments?"

"Good morning to you, Dean, and yes. I was going to call you when the search teams finished, but it was three in the morning," Jody replied. "Should....I have woken you?"

"Probably," Dean replied, "but don't worry about it now, what did you find?"

"Gallagher and Talley both had similar shrines tucked away in their apartments, one in a hidden room in the back of the closet and the other under their bed, of all places. Same symbols."

Dean grunted in acknowledgement. "Yeah, well, that only confirms the devil worship or demon summoning or whatever this is." He frowned. "There was a guy who used to come around town, Bobby Singer says he went by the name Crowley. You know anything about him?"

Jody made a small noise of recognition in response. "I remember him. Very strange fellow, he gives me a bad feeling. I caught him selling some drink thing to kids I would have sworn was blood and laced with drugs, but it came back clean as a whistle. I couldn't even tell you what it was in the toxicology reports except for some hallucinogenic plant."

Dean grimaced, even though Jody couldn't see his face. "Yeah, I know the one you mean."

"Do you?"

"My brother, Sam, when we were kids...he gave one of those things to him, got him hooked on whatever it was, but we could never prove it was an actual drug or that he was selling it, not to mention he beat it the hell outta town before anyone could even take him in. He hasn't been seen skulking around for a while, as far as I know," Dean said carefully.

"No, I don't think he has, either," Jody replied. "You think he has something to do with this?"

"Maybe. I've got our technical expert looking into him now. I need to call..." he paused, stopping himself before he misspoke a second time, "I need to call Dr. Novak next. I'll let you know if I have anything new soon."

Dean paused, looking around. Benny wasn't in the room, and on careful examination, neither were his things. Dean stood, scratching his head and looking around before he found a note scribbled on a sheet of paper and left propped on a cup of cooling coffee on the desk.

 

 

> Dean--
> 
> Andrea went into labor, heading back. Going to send Victor out to join you as soon as he's recalled from Topeka.
> 
> Don't do anything stupid until he gets there. I'd prefer if you don't do anything stupid at all, though. Stay safe, brother.
> 
> \--Benny

 

Stay safe. Dean snorted at the implication that he needed to stay safe. "Yeah, yeah, Benny. Just don't forget to tell me if I've got a goddaughter or a godson," he muttered into the coffee cup before taking a sip. Calling Castiel was next on his agenda, and it would be more pleasant than the cheap coffee, he hoped.

Castiel picked up after a few rings. "Medical examiner's office, this is Dr. Novak speaking, how may I help you?"

"So polite, Dr. Novak," Dean chuckled, and he could hear Castiel snort. "Mornin', Cas, how are you?"

"Hello, Dean, I'm well. And yourself?"

"Good."

"I'm sure you didn't just call to chat or say what a wonderful time you had last night, so go ahead, Dean." Castiel was right to the point, Dean had to admire that.

"I was wondering if you had any lab reports back yet," Dean inquired, which earned him a frustrated grunt.

"Surely you've been in this business long enough to know lab reports take much longer in real life than on tv? Especially given the backup at state labs?" Castiel chided him, and Dean grinned.

"Sorry. We've got a possible lead, think the killer might have sold farm equipment for a living, so Charlie sent me a whole list of farm equipment with sharp pieces. Can I send it to you to take a look?" Dean asked. He chewed on his lip for a moment, his gut pulling tight as Castiel let loose a small gasp, a shiver crawling up his spine at the noise. He did his best to try to squash the sensation back down.

"Of course, Dean. I would appreciate it very much."

Dean forwarded the text and was about to say goodbye when Castiel's voice flooded back over the line. "Perhaps you'd like to join me in doing comparisons? It isn't exactly exciting, but this is quite a list and I could use an extra hand."

Dean bit back a grin. "Sure, Cas. Benny bailed on me anyway and I need to do something useful while I wait on his replacement from another assignment."

"Bailed? You mean he left you?"

"Yeah, I'm gonna have to walk, so it'll be a bit."

"But he left you behind?" Castiel almost squawked.

"It's....I...it's okay, Cas. His wife is having a baby. I'm not offended, I knew he'd go if it happened."

"You are not walking, Dean. I'll have Jody send someone to pick you up." 

"You don't have t--"

"Don't argue with me, Dean. There's a killer out there and I'm a little concerned. Sue me later if it bothers you," Castiel replied firmly, and Dean wisely stopped arguing.

 

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Fifteen minutes later, Dean was seated at a lit work table with a magnifying glass and photos of farm tools and victims' wounds, all up close and personal. Castiel had done cross-sections and casts, the works, and Dean whistled, impressed. "Very organized, Cas!"

Castiel shot him a smug look. "It would be unprofessional and I am nothing if not professional."

"Very professional, asking for help from a non-medical expert," Dean ribbed him, poking his side as he walked past.

Castiel swatted at his hand. "From an FBI agent who has plenty of experience. I'm sure you are quite capable of helping me to narrow down the list of possibilities, given that we know the weapon has a curved blade. If you can sort out anything that has, for example, a straight edge or a serrated edge, that would be of significant help."

Dean shrugged before nodding. "Fine, I'll be your assistant." He picked up the first image and the magnifying glass, sorting images carefully into a discard pile and a maybe pile while Castiel did the same. After more than an hour, they had finally managed to narrow the pile down to a small pile of images.

"So, scythes then?" Dean asked, peering over the pile. "Does this guy think he's the Grim Reaper?"

"I have my doubts due to the incantation found at the crime scenes," Castiel replied, frowning as he peered at one of the images. "Most of these are too large, Dean. The length makes them all wrong for the curvature of the wounds."

"Something smaller," Dean mused out loud. He picked through the pile before holding up an image of a smaller hand sickle. "Like this?"

Castiel snatched it out of his hand and Dean jerked back, startled. "A little over-eager there, man, warn a guy!" he complained, but Castiel wasn't paying attention, his eyes wide as he examined the blade.

"I don't believe this to be the exact weapon we're looking for, but it's quite similar!" Excitement was leaking into his voice, and Dean couldn't quite push down the smile that quirked one corner of his mouth in amusement. "The length, the curvature. If the killer hand-sharpened it on the other side, which would be unusual, then we would have our weapon!" He glanced at Dean. "What did you say was your lead again?"

"There was a guy who used to come around town, a creepy guy Bobby said went by the name Crowley. He sold a bunch of stuff, including small-time farm equipment. Mostly hand tools like this sort of thing," Dean paused, scratching at his scruff. He hadn't bothered to shave this morning and was starting to regret it."I think he might have sharpened things, too, but you know, mostly for housewives. Most farmers usually have their own whetstone."

Castiel blinked at Dean for a moment. "You should have told me this sooner, Dean. You're from around here, I'm not. You know more about locals than I do."

Dean frowned. "He's not a local. He's a traveling salesman sort of guy. We think he might have hit a couple of other towns in the last twenty years--Sioux Falls and Stillwater--but to be honest, I didn't remember him myself. My brother did."

It was Castiel's turn to frown. "When did you talk to your brother?"

"Last night. I talked to my uncle this morning, he was able to tell me the name he went by. We have Charlie trying to dig up more on him as we speak."

"What led you to this discovery, Dean?" Castiel glared at him, descending on him and gripping his shoulder tightly.

Dean shrugged. Castiel's grip tightened to a bruising force and Dean hissed, trying to pry his fingers off. "The note, okay? Let go!"

"The note?"

"Squirrel! I couldn't remember who 'Squirrel' was but Sam did!"

Castiel shook Dean slightly, grabbing at Dean's chin and forcing him to look up. "Who is 'Squirrel', Dean?"

"Me!"

In an instant, Castiel's grip was gone and he had backed away, eyeing Dean as though he'd betrayed him. "You? Have you told Sheriff Mills?"

Dean shook his head. "I hadn't even gotten around to telling Benny. It...I forgot after it became more pressing to find a name."

"You knew and you didn't say anything."

"It wouldn't have meant anything to you, or to Jody."

"But it meant something to your uncle. It might have meant something to someone else."

Dean shook his head. "To Frank, maybe. But nobody in their right mind wants to willingly question the guy."

Castiel blew out a slow breath. "You need to tell Sheriff Mills and allow her to make that decision for herself. This is her case, too."

Dean took the dismissal for what it was and excused himself quickly, escaping from the dark glare that Castiel was sending his way.

 

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Dean found himself sitting in Jody's office, facing a similarly stormy expression as he informed her of the fact that he'd riddled out the note.

"Look, I know I'm just some local hick cop to you, but this is my home, my town, my people too. You can't just take it upon yourself to take over everything and cut me out because you're some big shot fed. That's not fair. I want to catch this guy, too, before we lose someone else."

Dean nodded, hanging his head. Aiming for a distraction, he hazarded a glance up at Donna and Jody. "Dr. Novak and I think we might have an idea of what the weapon is. Possibly a sickle with the following edge sharpened, either instead of or in addition to the leading edge."

Donna's anger dissipated with the new information, but Jody was still pinning him with a hard glare. "This discussion isn't over," she muttered, allowing Dean to share what new information he had regarding the weapon and Crowley.

Reviewing the information of the case with them, however, manged to prove useful as Dean's brain pushed forward a small piece of information it had previously tucked away. Dean straightened at the memory. Jody was immediately alert to the change, looking him over curiously. 

"Something wrong?"

"I just remembered something Dr. Novak had said." Dean grabbed his phone, dialing quickly.

"Who are you calling?" Donna asked, leaning over the desk to watch him.

"Charlie, our tech nerd." He fell silent as he put the phone on speaker.

"This is the bitch that kicks your ass at Mario Kart, how may I help you?"

Dean flushed crimson and coughed. "Uh, h-hey Red. You're on speaker."

There was silence for a few beats, and then--"Oh. Oh my god. I am so sorry. I swear, I am not usually--"

"You can grovel later, right now I need an answer."

"23,462."

"That's not the answer I was looking for."

"You said _an_ answer, not _the_ answer." Touche.

"Can you look up crops that are grown around here?" Dean sighed, a little exasperated. He covered the mouthpiece briefly. "She's good at what she does, but she's like the little sister I never wanted," he said to Jody with a put-upon look.  
  
"I heard that! And yeah, I can look that up. Why?" Charlie asked, and Dean could almost hear her confusion.

"Just a hunch, tell me that's a quick search."

"Sure, it's a quick one. Let's see..." Charlie trailed off, reading to herself for a moment before she finally spoke again, "Wheat, corn, soybeans, sorghum, and hay."

"Great, thanks Red. I still owe you a drink." He disconnected before Charlie could press him for more or go after him again for bailing on their call earlier, looking up at Donna and Jody. "Dr. Novak said he'd found plant material on the victims' clothing. We think the weapon is a sickle. What if it's from someone's crop?"

"Go tell the doc now. We're still waiting on the state lab, but maybe you guys can get a step ahead now that you have a better idea of what you might be looking for," Jody said, waving Dean out the door. Dean shot her his own annoyed glare, feeling like a child who was being dismissed left and right once he'd outlived his usefulness. 

"You're welcome," he muttered as he wandered his way back down the hall.

 

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"Well?" Castiel asked, without looking up from cross-referencing different models of sickles to the wounds.

"Well what?"

"Did you tell them?"

"No, which is totally why I'm back here with new information to share with you."

Castiel rolled his eyes before finally looking up at Dean. "Did you tell _them_ that?"

Dean grinned cheekily. "Nope."

"You're rather irritating."

"Goes both ways, Cas."

"What was so important that you just had to come back and bother me, Dean?"

"Playing messenger boy, I guess." Dean's grin widened at the brewing annoyance in Castiel's eyes before he finally humored him. "Got a bit of inspiration while the ladies and I were chatting. You said yesterday that you'd found plant material on the victims' clothing, right?"

Castiel narrowed his eyes at Dean. "Yes. And you have an idea?"

"I was hoping, maybe. Do you have any samples or photographs?"

"Of course I took photographs and samples, Dean. What kind of medical examiner do you take me for?" Castiel huffed, and Dean could barely suppress a chuckle at his expense.

"A good one, and I was right. I got a list of local crops from our tech gal, she says Kansas grows wheat, corn, soybeans, hay, uh....and....something with gum in the name?"

"Sorghum. I'm not terribly familiar with it." Castiel pulled out magnified photos of the plant on the computer, and in a side window, began pulling up images of the plants Dean had listed. "It's definitely not wheat or hay." He paused. "It's the wrong color for soybeans. Wrong shape for corn, even dried corn kernels." Castiel hummed faintly, a monotone sound of concentration, and then he gave a slight gasp. "It's....I believe it's sorghum."

Dean leaned over Castiel's shoulder, squinting at one image, then the other. They did look remarkably similar. "We should find out which farms nearby grow sorghum then, get a search warrant to check out their properties if possible."

Castiel was frowning, though, when Dean craned his neck to glance down at him. "A sickle isn't used to harvest sorghum, though. That's meant mostly for wheat fields, and usually smaller ones these days."

"Okay," Dean nodded, "So, small scale with wheat and sorghum?"

"For the moment," Castiel replied. "Expand from there if you have to, but the fewer places you have to search, the better."

 

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After another round of playing at being "an owl", in Charlie's words, Dean and Jody had narrowed their search results down to just one farm in the area that grew sorghum, so that made getting a search warrant from the bench that much easier. Victor still had not joined them yet, but Dean tagged along in one of the squad cars, aiding in the search of the property, which included the farmhouse (in the cellar of which Dean totally did not freak out over a spider web in his hair), two barns (in one of which Dean totally did not run from a chicken on a mission), and a smokehouse (in which Dean totally didn't take a ham hock to the head).

It wasn't until they were walking back empty-handed, however, that Dean tripped over something and fell nearly flat on his face. Dean pushed himself up, groaning and looking back to see what he'd fallen over when he found Castiel, who had decided to tag along just in case they found Ansen Weems still alive, crouched down and lifting a sheet of plywood covered in fake brush away from a steel door of an underground tornado bunker buried partway into the ground. Dean jerked upright to his feet in an instant, pulling Castiel away. "Whoa, watch yourself, Cas. If that guy is down there, let us go down there first. You don't even have a weapon on you."

Castiel sighed and started to roll his eyes but seemed to think better of it, nodding and stepping away as officers crowded around the door with Dean. Jody and Dean were quick in getting an entry team ready to go, and as Dean refreshed the team's memory on how things would go, Castiel felt a bead of nervous sweat slide its way down his back. Dean was going down there, charging into the face of danger, and he had to stay up here, waiting for an all-clear! He was still mildly angry at Dean for that morning, but not so angry he would ever wish harm on the man.

Dean was about to set a team to work on getting the door pried open when he caught sight of the look on Castiel's face, and he held up his hands in a time-out motion, stepping aside. "Something on your mind, Cas?"

Castiel bit his lower lip, a motion that dragged Dean's eyes down before they snapped back up to meet Castiel's eyes again. "I'm just...be careful, please."

Dean shot Castiel a cocky grin. "I'll be fine. And if I'm not, I've got you."

Castiel narrowed his eyes faintly. "I'm used to working on dead bodies, not live ones."

Dean sighed before grabbing Castiel's hand and squeezing briefly. "I've done this plenty of times, I'll be fine. And if I'm not, I trust you. You'll save me."

Castiel wished he felt some of Dean's confidence.

Dean turned back to the group motioning for two of the men to pull the door open while two others stood at the ready with guns drawn. The layout of the bunker was simple enough, a standard model from the sixties meant for tornadoes and missile threats from Cuba, and as the first set of two descended into the bunker, the next set was hot on their heels as the shouts of "Clear!" came from down below, Dean jumping down to join them.

As Dean and his team made their way deeper into the bunker, they wound their way back to another door shut off from the rest of the bunker. Dean froze in his tracks for a few moments, staring at it. Ansen Weems was nowhere else to be found on the property, neither hide nor hair. This was the last possible place he could be. Dean wasn't sure, though, if he was ready to face what was on the other side of that door. He drew in a deep breath and motioned for the team. The door swung open slowly, hinges creaking in protest to reveal...

...nothing. The room was laid empty. Not a scrap of food, or a piece of furniture to be found. No secret hatch, no door to a hidden passageway. Nothing. Dean let loose a frustrated sigh, driving a hand through his hair before turning and storming topside. Castiel had sat down in the grass, and his head jerked up as Dean climbed out, eyes wild and afraid. "Dean!" he cried out, scrambling to his feet and rushing to Dean's side. He checked him over, his hands running over his arms. "Are you alright? Is Weems down there?"

Dean growled, shaking his head. "There's nothing. A big fat nothing, Cas. I was wrong. How could I have been wrong?" He turned to face Castiel, whose eyes were soft with an emotion Dean didn't want to see. "Don't look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you pity me. I don't need it." Dean jerked away, stomping off angrily. He must have missed something, but the question was, did he miss it here or had he missed it in the evidence itself?

"Dean, wait!" Castiel was trailing after him, but Dean didn't slow down until he reached one of the squad cars.

"I'm useless," Dean muttered, leaning against the side of the car. "Expendable. I suck at this job."

"You don't suck at this job, Dean. You made a mistake, it happens. But you made it farther than any of us ever would have. That's something to be proud of. You'll go back and look again, and you'll find it, I know it. You said yourself, you're not just some brawny fed. You're brilliant, and you've proven it."

Dean looked up at Castiel, sincerity bright in his eyes, and he felt his anger soften slightly. "Yeah. Yeah, you're right." A slight grin crossed over his features. "Want to help me look again?"

 

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It was the last day possible to find Weems before they would likely be finding his corpse instead, and with things down to the wire and being short a man while Victor was still wrapping things up in Topeka, Dean had a full crew of volunteers helping to pour over every ounce of information they had. But as the hours wore on, it became more and more apparent there was no new answer staring back at them.

So when the call came in, in the evening hours, that Weems was found dead in a nearby park despite additional patrols, Dean was halfway between unsurprised and losing hope. He urged Jody and Donna to have a brief emergency press conference and ask that people take a head count of friends and family right away, and while they did their best to field questions from the media, he and Castiel continued to look over the information in front of them, praying to find something, anything new.

When Weems was brought in, however, Dean lost Castiel to that job and he found himself alone for the duration of the autopsy and examination.

Castiel asked Dean to join him after that, the two of them settling into his office with containers of Chinese takeout and chopsticks while Castiel reviewed the newest reports with him. The problem was, most everything was the same--same wounds, same patterns, same symbol and incantation on the ground.

Dean was busy stuffing a bite of chow mein into his mouth when Jody stuck her head in, breathing a sigh of relief when she spotted him. "There you are!"

Dean held up the container of food. "Just takin' a quick dinner break, I'll be back to work in a few minutes," he said around his mouthful of food, and Jody wrinkled her nose. A moment later, she shook her head slightly and charged ahead.

"We know who he grabbed next," Jody said as Donna came in behind her, holding a folder. She passed it to Dean, and when he opened it, the picture staring back at him was a shot from a familiar restaurant's security footage of a face that was just as familiar being dragged off by someone. Someone who had taken great care to make sure the camera hadn't caught his face.

Dean choked on his food, coughing and pounding on his chest, and Castiel leaned forward, frowning in concern. "Dean, what is it? Who is it?" He set down his orange chicken and reached for the file.

Dean turned it so Castiel could see the face of the man who had troubled Dean at The Roadhouse last night. "Aaron. Aaron Bass."

Jody and Donna glanced at him. "Do you know him?" Donna asked, her brow raising curiously.

Dean coughed again, smearing the back of one hand across his mouth. "Uh, yeah. He and I....used to be friends..."

"Used to?" Jody pressed, and Dean winced.

"Yeah. My, uh, my dad wasn't so keen on me bein' friends with him, so..."

The look on Jody's face was unreadable as she asked, "Do you think he was involved in devil worship?"

Dean shrugged, pushing his food away. His appetite was gone now. "He and his old man never saw eye-to-eye on religion. He'd talk a lot about these monster things a lot, made out of clay, said his grandfather had one. Some Jewish thing."

Castiel looked up at that. "Golems. They're created to obey Rabbis and protect the Jewish people in hard times. It binds a life force of some sort to a clay body. What if Bass was looking for something more than just a Golem to obey him, though? What if he thought he could get a demon to obey him?"

Dean sighed heavily, tossing the thin file on the desk. "Get a search team together, Jody, send 'em out to Bass' apartment and to search around The Roadhouse. Maybe there'll be evidence of how he was grabbed. Maybe an idea of a vehicle."

Jody nodded, handing Dean a set of keys.

"What's this for?" Dean asked, and Jody tilted her head at him slightly.

"Keys to one of the squad cars," she said, pointing to the little tag dangling from the ring. "In case you decide to take a break from boring old maps to join us."

Dean nodded his thanks and she and Donna disappeared down the hall.

He picked up Weems' casefile again, flipping through and stopping on a photograph of a sample he hadn't seen in the other casefiles. "Wait a minute, Cas. This is new." He held it out to Castiel.

Castiel took the folder back, squinting down at the photograph before nodding. "Ah, yes. I was going to mention it, but we got a little sidetracked. I found rust in the victim's hair."

"Rust? Impressive. No farm has had rust, ever," Dean said sarcastically, and Castiel shot him a dirty glare. Dean grabbed the container of food and moved to dump it in the trash can.

"Something wrong, Dean?" Castiel asked, noting the container was still half full.

"Lost my appetite. I'm getting back to work."

Castiel snatched the container from his hand, tucking the flaps in.

"Hey man, I can throw my food away if I want," Dean protested, but Castiel shrugged and shoved it in the small refrigerator in his office.

"Or you can eat it later if you get hungry again, Dean. It'll be here. I'll join you in a bit."

Dean huffed an annoyed sigh but nodded, leaving Castiel to finish his dinner in peace. He settled back in with the maps and files, peering at farms that spread out away from Lawrence and frowning. Would Crowley really have gone further away, just to cart a body back into town? No, he doubted that. Crowley would stay close, so he could get in and out faster. Less chance of being caught with a body on his hands. But what about the rust? Sure, plenty of farms had rusting equipment, that was nothing new, and that was part of sharpening old blades, to clean off any rust fragments. But they'd have to be pretty old to have rust on them...

Dean frowned at the maps under his hands, scanning them again before tiredly throwing his head back and smearing his hands over his face. He let his mind wander for a moment, remembering when he and Sam were kids, when they'd disappeared into the woods to get away from John because he was too drunk for even Dean to handle. They'd wandered pretty far, several miles in fact, just to put as much distance as possible between them and their father after John had crushed Dean's hand under his boot heel. Even Sam was too scared to argue with Dean as they ran, no matter how much he'd wanted to tell Dean he needed to go to a hospital instead.

Christ, that had been the night John had found out about Aaron. Not that Aaron was into trying to resurrect clay monsters because that was nothing new, but that Aaron had _feelings_ for Dean. And damn it, he'd just lied to Jody, to Donna. By omission, of course, but Castiel had witnessed Aaron trying to flirt with Dean last night and hadn't said a word about it.

He sighed, running his fingers over the paper, his thoughts turning back to that night he and Sam had run from John. They'd ended up in an old outbuilding, a decaying structure from an abandoned farm. The decaying part wasn't so bad, so Dean had thought maybe it would have been a good place to duck and cover for a while, while they waited out John's latest drunken rage.

What was so bad was what Dean found when he made his way inside the old building...rusting sickles, scythes, blades for hay mowers and threshers, knives for butchering animals, the concrete floor still baring age-old bloodstains and gouges, the last ghosts of animals slaughtered and cut open on that floor. He was sure it would have been creepy in daylight, but after dark, the reflections caught on the aging blades in the beam of his flashlight made it all too eerie. When an unhappy owl had made its presence known by flying in his face, Dean had booked it out of there as quick as he could, dragging Sam along with his broken hand, not even mindful of the pain until half a mile later.

Dean winced, flexing his left hand. It had never been set, never healed right. It hurt off and on, of course, and he used to blame the weather, but it'd been hurting a lot more lately, and Dean was loath to admit the source of the problem.

His eyes wandered back to the maps under his hands, and he idly located Bobby's old salvage yard on the top sheet, his finger then tracing in the direction he and Sam had run. But all along the line, there was no sign of any farm, and Dean scratched his head before carefully checking in a circle radiating out from the property. Still no sign of a farm in the area. What was it Sam had said about the farm?  That it had gone under decades ago when the Great Depression had hit, Dean could recall Sam being a total nerd about it and everything.

He checked the date on the map--2010. Too current, so Dean went back into the archives to search for earlier maps. No one was in sight when he made it downstairs, so he helped himself, carting several stacks of old maps upstairs, spreading out the one labeled 1930 on it and propping up the 2010 map nearby to compare the area. Going based on the tick marks on the sides of the map, he located the place where Bobby's yard would have been in the 30s and repeated his earlier process, his finger finally landing on farm land. There it was, tucked back in the woods now on the more current map: the MacLeod Farm. He grabbed a pen from a nearby desk--red, upon checking it--and circled the area on the 2010 map before taking a picture with his phone.

Reaching down, he patted at his pockets, hearing the keys Jody had given him jingle, and he darted down the hall to Castiel's office. "Hey, Cas, I found--"

Castiel's office stood empty. The morgue was empty, too. Most of the bullpen was abandoned, as well, the majority of officers either searching The Roadhouse, Bass' apartment, or patrolling the streets on alert for suspicious activity. But this? This wasn't something that could wait. He bit his lower lip, scanning the room and checking Castiel's office and the morgue one last time before trying to call Castiel. Dean frowned when he heard Castiel's phone ring from nearby and was disappointed to find it sitting in his chair in his office. Damn. His next tries were to Jody and Donna, and both times he was sent through to voicemail.

He couldn't wait on this. A life was in danger, it couldn't wait.

He snatched the keys from his pocket and ran down to the lot out back, taking the squad car and peeling out of the lot.

Dean wasn't sure how he managed to remember how to find his way out to the creepy old place after all these years, but he supposed the pain in his hand really made the memory stick with him because within a few minutes, he was pulling into a large copse of trees just outside of town. He'd been dialing Jody, Donna, and Castiel over and over again, but he'd failed to reach any of them by the time he pulled the car up in front of the tattered building.

In a last-ditch effort, he called Victor. "C'mon, c'mon man, pick up."

"SSA Victor Henrikson, what can I do for you?" Victor's voice came over the line, and Dean sighed in relief.

"Victor, man."

"Dean, I just got back a little while ago and threw a couple of changes of clean clothes in my duffle. I'll be there soon."

"Victor, I've got a lead, a serious one, and we've got another dead body. I can't seem to get anyone else on the horn," Dean replied, urgency leaking into his voice. He heard Victor's sharp intake of breath.

"Where are you?" Victor asked, and Dean gave him directions. "Okay, keep trying to call them and don't do anything stupid in the meantime, Chief. I'll be there in thirty minutes."

"It's at least forty."

"I'll be there in _thirty_ ," Victor repeated.

As soon as Victor disconnected, he went back to trying Jody, Donna, and Castiel to no avail. In frustration, he snatched the dispatch radio from its holster. "Dispatch? This is SSA Winchester of the FBI. Do you have a 10-20 on Hascum and Mills?"

The radio crackled and a female voice came over the line. "I read you, SSA Winchester. Hascum is at The Roadhouse, Mills is at the residence of Aaron Bass at the moment."

"Do you have a 10-25 on either of them?"

"Not at the moment, no."

Dean swore under his breath and then stiffened as an agonized scream echoed through the trees.

"Is everything okay, SSA Winchester?" Dean looked down at the radio in his hands.

"I need you to send a call out to any and every available car. I'm located in MacLeod Woods about two miles south of town. I think I may have a location on a 10-57, but I have no back up."

"Which car are you in?"

"Squad car 1."

"We have a lock on your location. Sit tight, Agent. I'll let you know when we have back up coming your way."

Another scream sounded, and Dean grit his teeth. "I can't wait on back up, dispatch, we have a crime in progress. I'm going in." He tossed the radio down, missing the cradle for the radio, and it fell to the floor, crackling wildly.

"Agent! Agent Winchester! We have no back up en route, I repeat, we have no back up en route! Please wait for back up!"

Dean ignored it, checking his watch. He debated sending one more call Castiel's way, but another scream chilled him to the core and he grabbed for his gun, checking the chambers and clicking the safety off before he exited his vehicle and began his approach to the dilapidated storage barn. Clicking his flashlight on, he crept closer, peering in through a crack in the wood slats, barely suppressing a gasp at the sight that met him: a man stripped bare, blood running down his torso and stretched out on a drying rack that once would have been used for leather. His wrists and ankles were bound and spread, and the man's head thrashed as he whimpered in pain. Dean tried to assess the best route, tried to find the assailant, but he couldn't see anything, couldn't hear anything...

...not until it was too late when he heard a twig snap behind him. Before he could turn, though, something crashed into the back of his skull, and with an explosion of pain, Dean's world went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 10-20: location  
> 10-25: contact with  
> 10-57: missing person


	5. Hellfire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean has been trapped in his own personal hell. Can his "fallen angel" find him in time to rescue him? Or will he have to piece a broken man back together again?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains graphic depictions of torture. You will not miss much skipping this chapter if it triggers you. Please do NOT read if blood, intentional wounding, and malicious injury will trigger a panic attack. I am not to be held responsible if you read this chapter after being warned!
> 
> The only things you will miss are the torture scenes and the search and rescue scenes.

When Dean groggily came to, there was a bright light shining overhead that only amplified the splitting headache currently trying to crack his skull in two. The throbbing pain in the back of his head was, most unfortunately, pressed against a firm surface beneath him, and when he shifted to roll to his side, to Dean's surprise, he couldn't move.

He groaned, tugging at the restraints, and then he heard a laugh coming from beside him, so with a cautious turn of his head, he peered sideways into the shadows.

"Good evening, Squirrel," came a vaguely familiar, pompous voice that made Dean want to pop the owner in the nose to get him to shut up. Not that he could do anything about it at the moment or anything.

"C-Crowley," he rasped, his voice cracking as he blearily caught sight of the man from his youth, still wearing those same prim suits as always. Crowley peered at him with a smile that made him shiver and made his skin crawl, although after a moment, he realized he really was shivering. A glance downward proved that he'd been stripped and laid bare, and a recollection of the man previously in his position made the bile rise in his throat. "W-what did you do? Where's...?"

"Your little friend?" Crowley pushed the toe of his leather dress shoe against the face of the other victim, who lay crumpled and still on the concrete floor. The head rolled towards Dean, eyes glazed over, and Dean bit back a horrified scream at the sight that was Aaron Bass' bloodied and broken body.

He retched instead, his stomach forcing up what little chow mein he had forced himself to eat, and he gagged at the smell of blood, body waste, and vomit that hung thick in the air and clung miserably to the hairs in his nose. "I thought he had ten days!"

Crowley tsked at Dean, striding closer and into the light. "He would have, if you hadn't screwed up my schedule. I had to move ahead with things." A slow smirk crawled up the corner of his mouth, almost a greasy expression, and Dean choked again, trying to push away from him fruitlessly.

Crowley laughed. Threw his head back and _laughed_. "I love it when they struggle. Thanks to you, I'll have to be quick about killing you, too." The smirk turned into a full smile of delight, and Dean heaved again, his stomach protesting around the emptiness it felt. "But I will certainly enjoy making it hell for you until then, Squirrel. I'll have you squirming and writhing and _begging_ me to kill you, and instead you'll worship me for granting your request."

His gaze turned back to the corpse of Aaron Brass. "You and your little boyfriend will make a lovely double sacrifice, after all. Together in death!"

Dean paled. "I-I'm n-not gay!" he protested, teeth chattering against the chill night air, the old building offering no real protection against the elements.

Crowley laughed again. "To the end, a staunch denier. I'm not blind. I remember seeing you two around town. But of course, true love always wins out; you came to save the one you love."

"I am not in love with him!" Dean screeched, struggling against his bonds again, panic rising from his gut as he shook, twisted, and pulled, snarling wildly and snapping his teeth as Crowley came closer, snickering at his predicament.

"The loudest protests are the most deafening lies, Squirrel."

"They know where I am; th-they're sending backup," Dean tried, desperate, his breath coming in heaving gasps as he saw Crowley raise his hand. In his grasp was what Dean knew had to be the murder weapon--as they'd predicted, a hand sickle with the following edge sharpened, honed to a razor sharp blade.

Crowley smirked, scraping the flat edge along the side of Dean's face and listening to the rasp as it shifted across his stubble. "I moved the car, Squirrel."

Dean tried to take a breath and calm himself. His cell phone, they could still ping his cell phone.

"Your phone is destroyed."

Dean paled as he finally felt the blade bite into his skin, slicing his cheek open smoothly and sending a warm trickle oozing down the side of his face.

"Th-they'll find me. He'll find me...." Dean whispered.

Crowley tilted his head and laughed before smearing his thumb through the blood and raising it to his mouth, giving it a perfunctory lick. "Ah, hope. Such a delicious flavor. But fear tastes better. A pity that I will have to move this along faster, but you will reek of it by the end, and your corpse will be the only thing they'll find." He swiped his thumb through the blood a second time, painting it across Dean's lower lip like a macabre lipstick, chuckling before he added, "All your new boyfriend will find."

Dean's eyes widened and he squeaked, struggling once more, bucking up against what he realized were chains. The bruising on the other victims, it made sense now.

"I think....I'll enjoy making Dr. Novak my next victim. Or I could just start over again at one."

Dean snarled at that, and Crowley only leaned closer, his fingers twisting in Dean's hair until tears sprung to his eyes. His eyes watered until the first droplets began to streak down his face and he could feel the salt burn in the open wound on his cheek. In that moment, Crowley pressed his mouth against Dean's ear, his breath foul and hot. "I'll make him suffer, too. And then you can have him join you on the other side. Maybe your two boyfriends can fight over you, then."

Dean drew in a breath to protest, but Crowley drew his hand back, out of Dean's line of sight, and drove the handle of the sickle into his gut. A burst of air escaped him at the blow and he strained to twist away, trying to gasp and refill his lungs with oxygen, but Crowley was unforgiving, landing another blow, and then another to his gut in rapid succession, until Dean's vision swam and he gurgled weakly. Crowley only grinned.

 

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Castiel finally stumbled back into his office almost thirty minutes after he'd left, frustrated over his lost phone. How could he have misplaced it? He snatched up his desk phone, punching in the number and then sighing with relief when it lit up and chimed at him from his desk chair. He hung up, picking up his phone and went to clear out the missed call notification when he noticed he had a string of missed call notifications, all from Dean. "I wonder what he was so excited about."

Castiel made his way down to the conference room where Dean was working, sticking his head in with a, "Hello, Dean, I apologize, I was in the bathr--" He cut off, peering around the empty room and then glanced down at his cell phone, pressing the redial to return Dean's call. To his surprise, it went straight to voicemail. 

Castiel wandered downstairs to the archives, finding no sign of Dean there, and pounded his way back upstairs to the bullpen, grabbing one of the few officers there by the arm. "Have you seen SSA Winchester?" he asked, but the officer shook his head.

"Sorry, I haven't seen him in a while, I thought he was still in the conference room working."

"Damn. Thank you," Castiel called as he ran back into the conference room. His eyes landed on the maps that Dean had been working on, spotting the red circle, and he leaned closer. Had Dean found a lead? Why hadn't he said anything to him? Where was he? 

He raised his phone again, this time dialing Jody, who picked up. "Dean?" she asked breathlessly.

"Uh, no, this is Dr. Novak. Is something wrong?" Castiel asked, nerves making his gut swirl with nausea. 

"He called me about a dozen times but it was on vibrate and I didn't feel it. Donna said he called her, too. Didn't leave any messages and when we both tried to call him back, it went straight to voice mail." Jody sounded just as on edge as he felt.

"I had the same happen to me as well," Castiel offered. "Do you have any idea where he is?"

"When I got back to my car, dispatch was going crazy trying to get in touch with any available cars to send backup to MacLeod Woods. Do you think Dean went there?"

Castiel's feet were already on the move, and it didn't take long before he was standing in front of the empty spot labeled for Squad car 1. "I unfortunately believe he did."

"Why?"

"He'd.....circled something on the map in the conference room. He found something, though I don't know what."

Jody gasped on the other end of the line.

"Sheriff Mills? What is it?"

"MacLeod Woods. It's named that because there used to be a farm there that belonged to a family by the same name. They lost it a long time ago so I don't even know if anything's left now. Teenagers go out there to hang out and find trouble these days."

"I'll meet you there, then," Castiel replied, reaching to hang up, when Jody screeched in his ear.

"You'll do no such thing!"

"I most certainly will, Sheriff. If Aaron Bass is there as well as Dean Winchester, they will need medical help. And if, God forbid, they're dead, you'll need me anyway. I'm coming, and you can't stop me. It's my job." He hung up before Jody could say anything else, bolting to his office and grabbing a few things before he darted to the morgue van and sped out of the lot.

Castiel wasn't sure he breathed all that much between the station and the location on the map, the way his chest was hurting and his heart was pounding the whole way. So when he finally pulled up near the entrance to the trees, he breathed a sigh of relief when he spotted Squad car 1 sitting out in the open. He ground to a halt, barely parking before he was jumping out and scanning the crowd for Dean's face. 

It didn't take long before he realized Dean wasn't there and the cops surrounding the car were CSIs, dusting for prints and checking for blood, any signs of Dean or anyone else in the car.

Castiel finally spotted Jody and Donna and jogged over, peering at their worried faces with a returning sense of guilt and fear. "Sheriff Mills? Sheriff Hascum? Where's...?"

"There's no sign of him, Dr. Novak, or of Aaron Bass," Donna said, grimacing and shaking her head. "We don't even know where to start looking."

"You can't get them to turn on his phone remotely?" Castiel asked, feeling desperation crawling into the edges of his voice.

Donna held up a sealed evidence bag containing Dean's phone, smashed.

Castiel struggled for another suggestion. "What about sending a search team into the woods?"

"It's dark and while we pulled most men from The Roadhouse and Bass' apartment, we're still stretched thin. We have to be careful or someone else might get hurt. We're trying to get a new search organized, but that's the problem--organizing it. It takes time and resources we're still waiting on from the other sites," Jody replied, shaking her head.

Castiel breathed out a curse, Donna and Jody both looking up in surprise. "Fucking small towns..."

"We have prints!" one CSI in a uniform shouted, holding up the modern scanning device they used these days. "We've got a positive hit for one Fergus Roderick MacLeod. Listed profession is as a tailor formerly and then as a traveling salesman who wasn't very good about paying taxes. Given a nickel and only served three years, got out early on 'good behavior'. Nothing listed for last known residence since he got out of jail."

Jody swore softly, peering at the picture that had come up on the screen of the scanner, squinting at it. "Smarmy bastard. So he's just been sitting around waiting to come back for this or something?"

"He's on parole, but he's been checking in with his probation officer."

"We got a name on the probation officer?" Jody asked, and the CSI nodded.

"Zachariah Adler."

Castiel's face twisted into an expression of disgust. "Hadn't realized he'd moved on to torturing ex-criminals."

"You know him?" Jody asked, turning to Castiel with interest.

"Unfortunately. I used to report to him when I was a doctor at Leavenworth." Castiel was still scowling. 

Jody nodded. "I take it he wasn't your favorite person. We should ask him about the last time he saw MacLeod, then." Without waiting for a response, she wandered off a short distance to call.

 

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Dean tensed when he saw Crowley's hand aim for his ribs on the left, but he veered off half a second later, the edge of the blade skimming the surface and drawing a trickle of blood before the handle slammed into the underside of his jaw. Dean grunted, blinking back tears as his vision swam and his teeth ached. Another blow looked like it was going to land on his right shoulder, but there only came another cut, just as shallow, before Crowley drove his knee up between Dean's thighs. Dean gasped, pulling and straining to curl in on himself as pain shot up his spine, and his face flushed crimson with humiliation.

"What, that's it? You're just going to lie there and take it, no witty banter?"

"You're a riot," Dean hissed, and Crowley smirked.

"You think you're cute."

"I think I'm adorable," Dean gritted out, willing the pain to ease away.

"Are you now? Well, I can help with that." A blow across the right side of Dean's face left his head reeling, and then he felt something cold and curved run across his skin, heavier and thicker than the sickle. Crowley rotated it until a sharp tip was pressed against his shoulder and began to press. The stinging burn quickly shifted into the agony of tearing flesh as Dean's breaking mind scrambled for some small shard to cling to, blood running down his shoulder. The other victims, the holes, the, the....Dean dared to glance down, his eyes watering as he grit his teeth and whimpered. Crowley was gouging a meat hook into the skin and flesh, his fingers slipping in fresh gore as he pushed deeper and deeper, and Dean's whimpering rose into a high-pitched whine as the tears blinded him.

The pushing and tearing sensation stopped, although Dean was left with the feel of throbbing and blood running down his chest, dripping onto the board below him.

"I am impressed, Squirrel, I must admit. I was certain you would scream. Maybe I need to try again."

Dean felt pressure against his other shoulder and he took a breath and held it, steeling himself. With a frown, Crowley drove the handle of his sickle into Dean's gut again, in a relentless, pounding motion. "You'll keep breathing until I say you're done breathing!"

Dean gasped and gagged, choking and whining as he fruitlessly struggled to twist away, and a deep slice across his unblemished shoulder tore a surprised cry from his straining lungs. Fingers dug into the wound, pulling it wider and digging into the blood and Dean tried not to mentally celebrate when they pulled away, for not a moment later, those same bloodied fingers were being shoved into his mouth. He tried to bite down, but the fingers shoved deeper, pushing his jaw open wider and forcing him to taste his own blood as he gagged and his stomach heaved. The fingers withdrew in time for Dean to vomit bile and stomach acid, the rancid liquid running down the side of his face as he panted desperately. "Wh-what do you want from me?"

"To see you suffer in hell." That was the only response from Crowley before the man began working a second hook into the soft flesh of his belly. Dean let loose a wretched sob, whining as Crowley worked his fingers in around the hook and gave one firm shove, plunging it all the way through in one go. Dean could no longer hold back, the scream rising in his throat, and Crowley only continued to work little slices into his skin to prolong the sound, striking blows to his ribs, the inside of his elbows, his knees, whenever he tried to fall quiet.

Dean felt the plea to die edging its way to the forefront of his mind. John thought he was nothing more than a waste of space and some worthless fag, a man who had spent his entire life training Dean to be his good little obedient soldier to follow him around and do his bidding. Dean had done it in hopes of earning his father's love and pride, but all it had earned him was more anger and abuse poured on. To Sam, he was the disappointing older brother. The idiot. The high school drop-out who had barely earned his GED and had only gotten his job because of his father's recommendation and his training that had somehow stuck.  His team, they wouldn't miss him. Bobby could take over, he was good, he'd take better care of them than Dean ever could have, given what a fuck-up and a failure he was. Nobody would miss him. The world would be done a favor if he was dead.

 

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"Adler says he checked in last month, so no issues there. We can see about cutting him off at the pass the next he checks in with Adler, but in the meantime, we still need to track down Bass and Winchester," Jody said when she wandered back over.

Donna turned, peering into the distance before pointing at a black Chevy headed their way. "That looks like a fed car," she said, and Castiel looked up.

"Dean said Benny went back because his wife went into labor. He was waiting on another agent to join him."

Jody nodded, approaching the car as it pulled up. A dark-skinned man leaned out, peering among them. "I'm SSA Victor Henrikson. Looking for Agent Winchester."

Jody, Donna, and Castiel strode closer to the car as Jody replied, "We found the car he was using but he's nowhere to be found."

Victor looked up, peering around. "That's because you haven't gone far enough."

"Excuse me, far enough?" Castiel asked, perking at the possibility of information.

Victor shook his head. "You're sitting on the edge of the woods, he told me he's a couple miles deep into the woods, just follow the path straight up."

Jody's mouth fell open. "You spoke with him?"

"Yeah?" Victor looked confused. "Not you guys?"

"He didn't even leave us a message," Donna replied, and Castiel was already turning away.

"Let's get going, Sheriffs. Dean could be in danger, we need to get to him immediately," Castiel said, but Victor held up a hand.

"We can't just charge in. If we startle this guy, he might panic and kill Dean. We'll move in, no sirens, about one and three quarters of a mile in and go the rest of the way on foot, get your guys ready."

Castiel went stiff, wanting to protest, but he knew Victor had experience. He allowed the FBI agent to lead the way into the woods and waited, with some objection, at the one and three quarter mile mark. Agent Henrikson soon had a team assembled, and Castiel made one last attempt to convince Jody to let him come.

"Please, Sheriff Mills. I'm very concerned--"

"I know you're worried, Dr. Novak, and I understand, but you're a medical examiner, not police. You're not even armed, let alone trained. I let you go on the previous search against my better judgement, but that was at least during daylight hours. It's dark and easy to get lost. Keep your phone, we'll call you when we need you." Castiel was left to pace restlessly back and forth before Donna, in irritation and out of her own concern, ordered him back into the van, telling him to lock the doors.

Castiel watched as Victor's assembled team moved out on his orders, disappearing into the shadows.

 

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"Please," Dean whispered, throat raw and voice hoarse, blinded by tears and hands clenched into fists, straining against his bonds weakly.

"Please what?" Crowley asked in a low voice. "Ask nicely enough and I might just grant your wish."

"P-please...." Dean tried again. His vision was swimming, every inch of his skin aching.

Crowley was smiling, Dean could hear the victorious tone in his voice, and Dean flexed his fingers, trying to bring himself to ask for an end. But right when he opened his mouth to plead, a cell phone rang, and Crowley stepped away, snapping into the phone, "What? What do you want?" There was a silence for a few brief moments, and then Dean heard him _growl_. "Unfortunately we are going to have to cut our time even shorter, my dear Squirrel."

Dean blinked, seeing Crowley raise his arm, and he closed his eyes in surrender, holding his breath. He felt a breeze, Crowley's arm descending, and he allowed the sensation of the blade biting into the skin of his throat wash over him in an agonizing haze of pain. But before the stroke could be finished, a shot rang out, and Crowley gave a pained cry.

A chorus of shouts echoed from outside, but Dean couldn't focus on what any one voice was saying. He was bleeding out from the wound to his throat, his breath labored and slowing. Another shot was fired, and then a hand was pressing against his throat, voices battling for his waning attention above him. Somewhere in the tangle of words, he picked out, "Novak" and he drew a gurgling breath, a fresh wave of tears running down his cheeks as he rasped out, "Cas? Where's Cas? Please, I need--I need him to be safe, please tell me he's safe..."

The pressure against his neck changed, and a hand smoothed over his forehead, a familiar voice barking out orders. And then, "Dean, it's okay, I'm here, you're safe." 


	6. Give it a Chance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's been rescued, but has all of him been saved? Time and company will tell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first part is intentionally choppy, in an attempt to mimic how scattered I felt when I ended up in a serious car accident and was in and out of consciousness. The machine making the loud noises, in case you can't figure it out, is an MRI since Dean received a head injury.

Dean could feel hands on his neck, pressure. He couldn't move, still trapped.

A door slamming roused him; from his limited view, he could see storage drawers. A vehicle roared to life and lurched under him.

There were sirens, he could see someone moving over him. The throbbing in the back of his head was getting worse, pressed against a hard surface. He felt nauseous. He tried to flinch as a gloved hand touched his arm, and it took so much strength to just croak out a weak, "Cas, please, I n--I need Cas..." The hand on his arm slid down to his own hand and squeezed, and a gentle voice said something he couldn't make out. His eyes slid closed.

He forced his eyes open again and winced. There were blinding lights overhead, something sharp jabbed into his arm and he cried out hoarsely, trying to push it away. He was so cold, goose flesh rising across his bared skin. Exhaustion pulled him down again.

Raucous banging was what tugged him back this time, white was all he could see and the throbbing in his head was ramping up to a violent drumbeat in his skull. A burning sensation shot up his arm, he felt too warm, his mouth tasted like someone jammed a handful of pennies into it. His stomach promptly tried to invert itself up his throat and he gagged. He couldn't move, couldn't escape it. His moans rose to a fever pitch of raw screams that clawed at the inside of his throat, and he slammed his eyes shut.

He was surrounded by heat and fire, pain lancing through him in sharp, searing points. Struggling, straining, he flung his head back, arching his body, a high-pitched beeping noise shrieking in his ears as he cried out, again and again. A hand against his arm wrenched out one point of pain, and then more hands were on him, pinning him down. He fought back, gnashing his teeth and tossing his head. A hand gripped tight on his shoulder, then something sunk deep into the muscle and he screamed. He clawed at it, shoving it at the figure--Crowley, he thought--above him. He heard a startled shout, then sleep dragged him back down for a long time to come.

 

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Blearily Dean blinked, peering around a sterile white-walled room he eventually parsed as a hospital room. His mouth felt like a wad of cotton had taken up residence, along with a taste like something curled up and died in there. He felt stiff, itchy in places where gauze and tape stretched over his skin.

He tried to raise a hand to rub at his achy eyes, only his hand didn't go very far, however, sending a shock of pain up his arm. He stared down to find his wrists encased in brown leather straps, his pulse skyrocketing as he tried to shift, only to find his ankles in a similar predicament. His breathing went ragged, tears pricking at his eyes as he jerked against the restraints, panting and letting loose small whimpers. As bile and panic rose in his throat and the rapid beeping of his heart monitor drew attention, a hand pressed against his forehead.

"Dean, I need you to listen to me, please."

Dean's head jerked up and he released a relieved sob. "Cas! Cas, please!"

The hand on his forehead started stroking his head gently. "Shh, Dean. Listen, I need you to take a deep breath."

Dean shook his head, and to his utter mortification, a few tears slipped down his cheeks. "No, no," he panted, "please let me out, let me out!"

"Shh, I need you to take a deep breath and calm down first, Dean. Last time we had to give you a sedative."

Dean went mostly still and he stared up at Castiel with wide eyes, still breathing hard and shivering violently. "You stabbed my arm!"

"If it makes you feel any better, you stabbed me back."

Dean completely froze at that, even his breath halting in his lungs. "Where?"

Castiel used his free hand to pull a small notepad from his left-hand breast pocket and turned it to show Dean the hole stabbed into the middle of the pages. Dean felt a new flood of stunned tears trying to fight their way up, and he squeezed his eyes shut, biting his lower lip hard to suppress a distressed noise. "'m sorry, Cas, 'm so fucking sorry..."

Cas just squeezed his hand, and when Dean opened his eyes again, Cas was giving him a small smile. "It's okay, Dean. No harm done. You were frightened."

"But--"

"No buts. Now technically, I'm supposed to make you wait an hour before I can let you out, but under the circumstances, I'm afraid it would make things worse." Cas reached down and released one wrist strap, leaned over him, and loosened the other. As he shifted to Dean's ankles, Dean rubbed at his wrists.

"Can I get up now?" Dean asked, almost shyly, and Castiel eyed him critically.

"Why?"

Dean flushed. "Need to take a leak," he mumbled, and Castiel chuckled. Dean glared up at him.

"You still have pain medication in your system, you're not going to be steady enough on your feet." He held out a small plastic device, and Dean wrinkled his nose.

"I'm not using that, Cas."

A small smile quirked the corners of Castiel's mouth. "You're not in a state to walk, Dean. I can help you sit on the edge of the bed and pull the curtain to let you do your business."

"Cas..."

"Or I can do it for you."

Dean stopped and stared, then barked out a laugh. "You just want to see my dick."

"While I'm sure it's very nice, I assure you, my interest is purely medical at the moment."

"At the moment?" One of Dean's brows rose.

"At the moment," Castiel repeated with a nod.

He and Dean stared at each other in a battle of wills for a few beats before Dean sighed, "Alright, fine, help me up. But for the record, this is gross."

Castiel reached for Dean, chuckling. "I've dealt with far grosser things than urine."

"Touche."

Later, once Dean was squared away, a dark-haired nurse swung by to speak to Castiel. She cut off mid-sentence when she saw Dean sitting up in bed, and turned to the doctor, chiding, "If anyone finds out you let him loose early, you are going to be in a ton of trouble, Doc."

Castiel gave Dean a smile. "After what he went through, I thought it best if he wasn't trapped. His head is clearer now, Nurse Barnes."

Dean returned Castiel's smile with a grateful one of his own.

"I'm going to step out for a moment, Dean. I'll be right outside. There's water on the table," Castiel directed at Dean, slipping out into the hall with Nurse Barnes.

Dean sipped his water, looking around the room and noting his nurse's name --according to the white board across from his bed, that is. CNN ran on the tv mounted in the corner, muted, and he had no room mate. Small mercies, he supposed.

Dean looked up when Castiel returned, a tiny grin returning with him.

"So, Cas....which doctor can I thank for, uh, saving my hide?"

The corner of Castiel's mouth rose very slightly and he raised his hand in a brief wave.

"You?" Dean gaped.

Castiel nodded. "I am a doctor, Dean. I refused to stand by and do nothing. You....you were..." He flushed red and trailed off.

"I what?"

"You kept...begging for me, to know if I was okay. After what you went through, you wanted to know if I was okay. I had to make sure you were okay, too."

Dean's eyes widened slowly, and the color drained from his face.

"Dean?" Castiel's brows drew together in concern and he perched on the edge of the bed. "What is it? What's wrong?"

Dean reached out, wrapping his fingers around Castiel's wrist, his eyes locked on his fingers over tanned skin. "Crowley...Crowley said he'd go after you next. I just remembered." He looked up at Castiel, his face full of fear.

Castiel stared back, calm in the face of that fact. "Dean, I'm fine. I'll be fine. We'll tell Jody and Donna when you're up to talking about what happened, but you don't have to worry about me." He closed his hand over Dean's.

"But--"

"We have an ID. Fergus Roderick MacLeod. We have finger prints, blood. He was shot, so he might seek medical treatment. We'll get him, Dean. We can track him now that we have a face and a name."

Dean sank back against the pillow, opened his mouth, and his voice cracked out a broken sound. "Aaron?"

"I'm sorry, Dean. He was already dead. I couldn't save him." Castiel's face fell, because although Dean had rejected Aaron, it didn't surprise him that Dean still cared, still wanted the man to have survived.

Dean pulled his hand away, burying his face as his shoulders trembled.

"It figures," a new voice spoke up, whiskey-rough, and Castiel looked up to find a scruffy man with graying hair and beard, an older version of Dean, peering at them critically from the doorway.

"Dad."

Castiel squinted at the man. "Mr. Winchester."

Steely eyes roamed to Castiel briefly, the only acknowledgement before John stepped into the room toward Dean.

"This is your fault, Dean. You were too weak, too stupid. You can't handle this damn job. You're pathetic! I knew it was a mistake to leave a fag in charge of the team!"

Dean's mouth fell open, but it was Castiel who spoke up. "Dean made the best decision he could. He had limited people to work with, a time-sensitive lead. When he found his way there, a crime was in progress and he tried to save the victim. His sexuality, whatever it may be, holds no bearing on his ability to lead his team effectively."

"He failed! He got a man killed, nearly got himself killed, too! And who're you anyway, his boyfriend?" John demanded, rounding on Castiel and closing in on him with a glare.

Castiel stood his ground, remaining at Dean's side and glaring back. "I'm Dean's friend and the doctor that saved him."

John snorted. "What a waste."

"Dad--"

John's hand shot out, gripping Dean's left hand tight, and Dean paled. "Seems like you need an attitude adjustment."

"Dad, no!"

Not a moment later, Castiel was behind John, pinning his other arm tightly behind him.

"If you hurt him, I will hurt you. It's time to go, Mr. Winchester. As a doctor, my patient's health comes first, both physical and mental. You are no longer welcome here." He released John only when he dropped Dean's hand, and John wrenched himself away with a snarl.

"Dean?" another voice spoke up, somewhat younger and male.

Castiel sighed. Dean was getting all of his company at once, it seemed. A glance toward the door revealed a very tall young man with floppy brown hair and concerned eyes glancing among John, Castiel, and Dean, the latter hunched on the bed, clutching his hand and looking pale and drawn.

"You need to leave, Mr. Winchester," Castiel repeated, and the new guest looked up.

"Excuse me?"

It dawned on Castiel the young man was another Winchester, and he directed a heated glare at John.

"That Mr. Winchester," Castiel said, nodding at John.

Realization lit up the other man's face, and not in a good way, as he reached for John to pull him away.

"Dad, let's go. Dean, I'll be back in a minute."

Brother, then.

John stared at Dean's brother. "You telling me what to do, Sam?"

"I'm bigger and stronger than you, Dad. Let's go."

John finally relented, stepping out ahead of his other son and muttering, "At least one son is a real man."

Dean shrank down in his bed, praying that the ground would open up and swallow him whole.

After Sam and John disappeared, Castiel turned back to Dean.

"Aaron was your boyfriend. You loved him."

Dean jerked. "I'm not--"

"Gay, I know. But you still loved him, Dean. I know you dated Aaron, Jody and Donna found out while performing interviews."

Dean was quiet.

"Your dad found out, didn't he? He wasn't happy with you, with what was different about you, so he broke your hand in punishment."

Dean's head twisted away from Castiel. "N-no..."

"We took x-rays. I saw your hand. It was broken, never set, never healed right. That's why it hurts sometimes, am I right?"

Dean snarled, his face twisting.

"That's why you're afraid," Castiel pressed on.

Dean growled, turning on Castiel. "You have no idea how hard it is to be raised by someone so hateful, Cas!"

A brief moment of sadness flashed over Castiel's features and Dean nearly missed it, but he shrank back against the pillows, instantly regretting his words. "Cas, I--"

Sam stepped back in at that moment, and Dean cut off, staring for a few beats before motioning at Castiel and introducing him hoarsely. "Sam, this is Cas. Cas, this is my brother, Sam." He sank down, defeated by the interruption.

"Cas?" Sam asked, reaching out to shake Castiel's hand.

"Dr. Novak," Castiel clarified, and Sam brightened.

"You're the one who called me about Dean."

Castiel nodded.

Sam grabbed a chair, pulling it the the edge of the bed and sitting. "How do you feel, Dean?"

Dean winced, rolling one shoulder slightly. "Exhausted. Sore. Kinda shaky."

Sam frowned. "You should come stay with me when you're released from the hospital."

Dean shook his head. "Sam, no. Thanks, but that's really not how I want to meet your girlfriend. I'll be fine on my own."

"But Dean..." Sam gave Dean a look that could only be described as puppy dog eyes.

"I can check in on him," Castiel found himself volunteering. "I can also probably recruit Dean's team members, too."

"No, Cas, you don't gotta do that, man. It's over forty minutes to Kansas City."

"Closer than Lebanon," Castiel replied pointedly, and Dean sighed in defeat. 

"Fine, you can check in on me. But I don't need babyin' or anything!"

Sam grinned and Dean shot him a bitch face. "What?"

"Cas is a good friend, that's all. He not only saved your ass, he's offering to check it out for you. I always knew you swung that way."

"Jesus, Sammy, don't be such a bitch," Dean sniped as Castiel flushed, and Sam only laughed. 

"Jerk."

Sam stayed and chatted for a while before stretching tiredly. "It was a long drive. I'm staying in a hotel so I can visit you later before I head back to Lebanon. But for now I'm beat."

Dean smiled slightly at his brother, and Sam almost patted his shoulder, pulling back at the last moment to avoid touching the bandage peeking out of the neck of the hospital gown. "See you, man."

After Sam had left, Dean turned back to Castiel, who had made himself scarce for part of Sam's visit, a fresh cup of coffee in hand.

"Who called my dad and brother?"

"The hospital called John. He's listed as your next of kin, but you might want to consider changing that, Dean. I'd rather Sam was listed as your next of kin, just because of your father's horrendous behavior."

"And Sam?"

Castiel noted the immediate evasion. "I called your coworker Charlie to ask and she passed Sam's number on to me."

"Yeah, but why?"

Castiel's teeth abused his lower lip for a few moments before he finally replied quietly, "When the pain medication was getting to you, you kept screaming for Sam."

Dean's eyes dropped to his hands in his lap. He was quiet for a few minutes, just trying to steady himself, and Castiel patiently sipped his coffee.

"Sorry," Dean finally croaked out.

Castiel's brows shot up. "For what, Dean?"

"For what I said earlier. That you didn't understand. You do, don't you?" Castiel was silent, and Dean peered up at him, eyes gentle and void of judgement. "What's your family like?"

Castiel's lips pressed into a thin line. "You're a profiler, Dean. Why don't you tell me what you think?"

Dean regarded Castiel for a few moments, then he drew in a deep breath. "Your name is unusual, religious in context. You likely come from a large, conservative family. They all have Biblical or religious names. I have a feeling you're not on speaking terms with most if not all of them due to your sexuality."

Castiel was unmoving.

"Am I right? You do understand, Cas."

Castiel shot to his feet, roughly driving a hand through his hair. "You should get some rest, Dean. I didn't get any sleep last night, so I'm going to head home and try to get some sleep myself."

Dean opened his mouth to protest, then stopped. Castiel hadn't pushed him except when necessary. Pushing Castiel right now wasn't necessary, just cruel. He'd tell Dean in his own time, if ever. Finally Dean nodded. "Good night, Cas. Sleep well. I'll see you tomorrow?" He couldn't help the note of hope that crept into his voice.

"Yes, Dean, tomorrow." Castiel finally smiled for him again and left.

A few minutes later, Pam returned with a cup of pills for Dean, a knowing smile on her face. "You two are going to be good for each other, Mr. Winchester. Mark my words."

Outside, Castiel fidgeted with his phone for a few minutes before finally dialing. It rang a few times before the person on the other end picked up, chiming in with a cheery, "Hello, hello, hello!"

"Hello, Gabriel."

"Cassie? To what do I owe the honor of my illustrious little brother gracing me with a phone call? You sound terrible."

"Thank you, Gabriel, that's a lovely thing to say."

"Seriously, Cassie."

"It's been a rough couple of days, trying to help find information to track down a serial killer."

Gabriel gasped on the other end. "In Lawrence? Are you okay, did they get the guy?"

"I'm fine, Gabriel. He unfortunately got away from us."

"How many victims?"

"Five, so far. Almost six. I managed to save one."

Gabriel chuckled. "Good to know the doc of death can still help the living, Cassie!"

"Hey," Castiel growled lightly, "I help the living plenty. I find answers as to how their loved ones died."

"But not the why, always."

"Above my pay grade."

"So the survivor...?"

"His name is Dean, he's a...friend of mine."

"Friend? Or special friend?"

"Gabriel...." Castiel sighed.

"Oooh, a friend you want to be a special friend, then!"

"Gabriel!"

"Are you falling for him, Cassie?"

Castiel couldn't help the small whine that escaped him before he finally admitted in a tiny voice, "Yes. He's gorgeous, freckles, sandy blond hair, amazing green eyes, but...he's afraid I think...doesn't know what to do with his emotions..."

"Oh, Cassie....you are so screwed."

"Thanks, Gabriel..."


	7. Freedom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean finally goes home from the hospital.

The next morning when Dean awoke, Castiel was already there, sipping on a coffee and reading a book. He peered over the top of the pages as Dean rolled from his side to his back, tentatively stretching.

"Good morning, Dean."

Dean jumped. "Geez, Cas! Way to give a guy a heart attack!"

"Good thing you're already in a hospital, then," Castiel replied dryly, and Dean shot him a sour look.

"Haha. Can I get up now?"

"I don't see why not. Take it slow and call me if you need me."

Dean snorted. "Like I'll call you to join me in the bathroom any time soon." He carefully eased himself up and waddled to the bathroom after Castiel disconnected the pressurized cuffs wrapped around Dean's lower legs--to help with circulation apparently.

When Dean returned, he edged back onto the bed, watching Castiel. "What are you doing here?"

"Watching over you. How did you sleep?"

"Anyone ever tell you that's kinda creepy, Cas?" Castiel snorted and Dean rubbed at his face. "And terrible, by the way. Hospitals are not very restful." He didn't mention the nightmares that had plagued him all night long, waking him more often than the night nurse had. "What are you reading?" he finally asked awkwardly, nodding at Castiel's book.

"Slaughterhouse Five."

"Vonnegut fan?"

Castiel's brows rose. "Not particularly. You are, I assume?"

"Yeah. How'd you know?"

"You knew the author. People usually only know that if they like a book."

"And they say I'm the profiler. I like that one and Cat's Cradle best."

"Maybe I'll read that one next." Castiel smiled faintly.

There were a few moments of uncomfortable silence before Dean asked, "When can I go home, Cas?"

"Dean, you have serious injuries and a psychotic killer who wants you dead."

"I'll be fine at home, Cas. I'll recover better in my own bed," Dean protested.

Castiel sighed. "I will schedule a follow-up MRI. We'll see, Dean, if things are looking better."

Dean huffed a sigh and relented, Castiel leaving while Dean ordered breakfast. He was about to dig in when Castiel returned.

"You might want to wait on food. The contrast can make people sick."

Dean grimaced, setting his toast down. "Lovely."

"They can fit you in now. Nurse Moseley is bringing up a wheelchair."

"Moseley?"

"Missouri Moseley."

Sure enough, the white board across from Dean's bed had Missouri written by 'nurse' in a curving scrawl.

Missouri came and went, and Castiel took Dean dowstairs. "Cas, what are you doing here?"

"I told you, Dean. I'm watching over you," Castiel replied.

"Yeah, but don't you have work?"

"I did the autopsy this morning and took samples. Meg is running tests and analysis now."

"Meg?"

"My assistant."

"Your assistant didn't help with picking through images before," Dean said, grinning. "You wanted my help. You wanted to see me." He craned his head to peer back at Castiel, who was flushed red.

"M-Meg was running tests."

"Uh-huh. You want me." Dean said cheekily.

"Hush."

After the MRI, Dean was glad he hadn't eaten, but he nibbled hesitantly while he waited for the results to come back. Castiel was frowning when he returned.

"That bad?" Dean asked nervously, swallowing a bite of egg.

"No, it looks better, but still not wonderful."

"Great, so can I go home?"

Castiel sighed. "I'd rather you didn't."

"C'mon, Cas," Dean whined, trying to mimic Sam's pleading puppy dog eyes. "Spring me, man!"

"Your brother does that face better."

"Shut it."

Castiel sighed again, a put-upon expression plastered on his face. "If you keep your breakfast down, we'll talk."

Not long after that, Dean puked, and Castiel merely gave him a knowing look.

"The fuck was that, man??" Dean demanded, gasping as his stomach rolled violently. Castiel's eyes tilted upward in exasperation, a silent plea for strength and patience.

"Concussions can cause nausea. You're staying for another day at least. I took off the middle of my day for you, but I need to run by the morgue this afternoon. I'll be back in the evening....if you'd like," Castiel replied.

Dean crossed his arms childishly over his chest and glared at Castiel. "Maybe I wouldn't," he snipped grumpily, and Castiel's face fell.

"Oh....then I..."

Dean's face softened. "No, I'm sorry, Cas....I'm grouchy 'cause I hate hospitals and I just wanna go home. But I want you to come back. Please?" He made a second attempt at the puppy dog face.

Castiel slowly relaxed and nodded. "Much better face this time."

Dean grinned. "If you bring a laptop, we can watch a movie on Netflix."

"Fine, but my brother Gabriel says if I Netflix, I should avoid chilling, whatever that means."

Dean let out a surprised snort. "Netflix and chill. It means hooking up for sex, Cas."

Castiel's head tilted endearingly. No! Not endearingly! Adorably. NO. Shit, Dean needed to stop his runaway train of thought as Castiel opened his mouth and asked. "What does Netflix have anything to remotely to do with sex?"

"Uh, because people get sidetracked from the movie when they start making out instead...and given, well, everything...I'm not into the chill part with you, man."

An amused grin twitched at the corners of Castiel's mouth. "At the moment."

"You're pretty cocky, you know that?" Dean accused, and Castiel's grin turned into a full smile, gums and teeth and the corners of his blue eyes crinkling. Dean felt his heart skip a beat, given away by the traitorous heart monitor. Dean cast a concerned glance at it.

"Are you okay, Dean?"

"'m fine. Go to work so you can get back sooner for a movie."

In the hours Castiel was gone, Dean watched lousy tv, dozed, visited with Sam for a while, and fielded phone calls from his team, Jody, and Donna. Jody and Victor swung by for his witness statement, and by the end of recounting his memories, Dean was shivering and nauseated. He tried to ignore the look of pity Victor shot in his direction as he curled in on himself, pulling the blankets up.

"Try to get some rest, Dean," Jody said gently.

"Been resting all day. Cas is supposed to be bringing his laptop so we can watch a movie."

Victor watched him curiously. "Cas?"

"Our medical examiner, Castiel Novak," Jody clarified.

"The ME is bringing a movie?" Victor was grinning like it was some kind of joke, and Dean scowled.

"We're friends...I think..."

"Dr. Novak would enjoy your company when you're not being egotistical and insufferable," Victor huffed in amusement.

Dean snorted. "Don't you have somewhere to be, Henrikson?"

"It can wait in favor of annoying my favorite boss."

Dean grinned, missing the grateful and relieved smile Jody shot at Victor.

As they were leaving, Castiel returned, laptop bag slung over his shoulder. He nodded to Victor and smiled at Jody. "Hello Sheriff Mills, SSA Henrikson."

Victor leered. "So, you and Dean."

"Dean and I what?"

"Get out of here, Victor." A pillow flew across the room and smacked him square in the face. Victor laughed and launched it back.

"Alright, hurry up and get better, Chief."

"Hello, Dean," Castiel greeted, grinning widely at Dean. Dean's cheeks colored slightly and he ducked his head.

"Hey, Cas."

As Castiel set up and started his laptop, he settled on the edge of Dean's bed. "So what are we watching?"

"How about Star Wars?"

"Never seen it," Castiel replied sheepishly, ducking his head as Dean turned wide, stunned eyes on him.

"Never?"

"We didn't watch movies or tv when I was growing up. I've never felt much urge to rectify that."

Dean snorted. "Rectify?"

"It means--"

"I know what it means, Cas. No one but you talks like that, man."

Castiel glared. "That's not true."

"Okay, most people don't talk like that."

Castiel mused over that for a moment before replying, "Fair enough."

Dean pulled up his Netflix account and started up the original Star Wars movie--the true first release.

"A flying machine like that is impossible, Dean. What's more, a youth would never be permitted to pilot such a dangerous piece of machinery," Castiel sighed.

"Shut up and watch the movie. It's science fiction," Dean shot back, side-eyeing Castiel.

"But--"

"No buts, Cas. You have to 'suspend disbelief' when watching movies."

Castiel huffed but fell silent.

About an hour in, Dean dozed off, slumping over and leaning heavily against Castiel's shoulder. Castiel tried to resist, but Dean's hair had been so soft before, and he reached up to run his fingers through it. Dean stirred faintly, making a pleased noise, and Castiel froze, waiting until Dean settled before he resumed. Dean fell into a deeper sleep against him, his breathing calm and slow.

Even after the movie ended, Castiel allowed him to continue sleeping, reasoning with himself that Dean needed the rest and he most certainly was not doing this because it would be the only opportunity he would ever have to be this close to Dean. That excuse only lasted him so long until his bladder demanded too much of his attention. He carefully and regretfully slipped out from under Dean's head, tense until Dean proved to still be asleep before slipping down the hall to the bathroom.

When he returned for his laptop, Dean was twisting against the sheets, whimpering.

"Dean?"

Dean gave a strained cry, writhing hard as if to escape something, and cold realization sank into the pit of Castiel's stomach--Dean was having a nightmare. Reaching out, Castiel gripped Dean's shoulder to shake him awake. "Dean!" Dean only cried out against the physical contact.

Throwing caution to the wind, Castiel sat on the edge of the bed, sliding an arm around Dean's shoulders and pulling him snugly back against his chest to restrain him. To his surprise and relief, Dean instantly relaxed into his hold, lines smoothing away from his face. He made a snap decision, for Dean's sake, to stay the rest of the night, watching over Dean and only slipping free in the early hours so Dean would never know he slept in Castiel's arms. After all, Dean wasn't....gay.

When Dean finally awoke, it was to Castiel curled up asleep in the chair. "Cas?" His voice was hoarse with sleep.

"Good morning, Dean," Castiel responded, his eyes still closed.

Dean took quick stock of Castiel's rumpled clothing. "You stayed the night?"

Castiel ducked his head and nodded. "You had a nightmare, so I stayed."

"Oh. Thanks, man."

Castiel's cheeks flushed, but he nodded again. "What are f-friends for, Dean?" He stumbled slightly over the word 'friends', not willing to admit it had not been out of friendship he had stayed. No, it had been far more selfish than that.

Dean's answering smile was strained and sad. "So, uh, can I maybe go home today?"

"We'll do another scan, but since you've kept food down, it's more likely."

Dean's smile shifted to a genuine, blinding grin. "Great."

When he was cleared and getting his paperwork put through to be discharged, he looked around, though, frowning.

"What's wrong, Dean?"

"I have no car, no clothes, and no cell phone."

"We'll give you a pair of scrubs and I'll drive you."

"Cas, no. It's over half an hour away. Don't you have work?" Dean was still frowning.

"I called in."

"I'm corrupting you."

Castiel barked out a surprised laugh. "You're doing no such thing. I have leave time."

"I could just call Charlie," Dean argued.

"I'm already here," Castiel argued back. Their eyes locked in a staring contest as Missouri, the same nurse from the previous morning, breezed in.

"Just kiss already!"

Dean's eyes widened comically as he tried to stammer out a response. Castiel, being an asshole, laughed at his expense.

"We're just friends, Nurse Moseley," Castiel assured.

Missouri looked him up and down with a disbelieving expression. "Uh-huh, and I'm a skinny white boy." She handed Dean a pair of clean scrubs roughly his size. "And you can get your fat black woman ass changed." Castiel only laughed harder.

Dean groaned and snatched the scrubs from her, fleeing to the bathroom for some semblance of privacy.

"You like him," Missouri observed.

"Am I that obvious?"

"Sure are, sweetheart. To anyone but him, because he's oblivious. It'll all work out, though. There will be pain and heartbreak, but stick around. He'll be worth it."

With a sad smile, Castiel nodded. "If you say so."

"I know so."

When Dean emerged, he found Missouri and Castiel both staring at him expectantly.

"What? I don't have a razor, I know my stubble looks like hell."

"Park it, honey," Missouri said, pointing at the wheelchair she'd brought.

Dean sank into it, missing Castiel's blushing face and Missouri winking at him while she jostled him and mouthed, "You know you love it." Castiel shook his head in vehement denial, and she grinned.

 

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Traffic on the highway was bad, and by the time they reached Dean's apartment building, it was well after lunch. Castiel handed Dean the small bag containing what little evidence the police had released, his wallet and keys, and Dean unlocked the door. "There's menus on the counter in the kitchen and a phone on the wall. Pick something. You can use my credit card." Dean tossed his wallet and keys on the side table by the door. "Don't feel like cooking, and I need a shower anyway."

"You cook?" Castiel asked as he stepped into a gorgeous gourmet kitchen. That was a dumb question, given a kitchen like this with brand new, shiny, top-of-the-line appliances.

"As much as I can, but I had no idea how long I'd be gone, so I have no food anyway," Dean called.

Castiel picked up the menus, peering at them curiously, and he heard the shower come to life.

Right when he was about to order, there was a knock at the door. He peered through the peephole, met with an eyeful of bright red hair.

"Come on Dean, I know you're home! I'm here to kick your ass at Mario Kart, stuff you full of burgers, and generally make you feel better!"

Castiel swung the door open to find a grinning face that fell slightly at the sight of him.

"You're not Dean."

"Ah, no, I'm not. Castiel Novak," he replied to the girl, smiling and holding his hand out.

She grinned, juggling her things, and grabbed his hand to shake it firmly. "The ME! I'm Charlie Bradbury."

"Nice to meet you finally. I was going to go after Dean settled in."

"No, stay Cas!" Charlie pointedly used the nickname Dean used. "There's enough food for three people, and he needs company!"

"But--"

"No buts!"

Castiel narrowed his eyes at her. "Are all of Dean's friends and family like this?"

Her grin widened as she nodded fiercely. "Yup!"

"Who're you talking to, Cas?" Dean's voice filtered from down the hall. He emerged in a black FBI tee and soft gray KU sweatpants, freshly showered and shaved and smelling like Irish Spring. His eyes lit up when they landed on Charlie. "Red! Did Cas call you?"

"Dude, hacker. I knew when you were discharged and saw you on the security cameras."

"Creeper."

"You love me." Charlie stepped forward and hugged him as Dean grumbled a begrudging agreement. As she squeezed, he paled, making a pained noise, and Charlie jerked back. "Geez, Dean, I'm sorry I wasn't thinking, I'm just so happy to see you."

"Likewise, Red, but be gentle!"

She grinned again, weakly, holding up a fast food bag. "I brought food," she said. She then held up another bag from an electronics store, waving it slightly. "A peace offering for being a creeper."

Dean pulled out a brand new phone and smiled widely. "Sweet, thanks! I'll have to work on recovering the data later."

Charlie rolled her eyes. "Hello, hacker, ring any bells from like a minute ago?"

"Not helping the creeper image."

"Don't care. Tell Cas to stay."

Dean's eyes dragged over to Castiel. "You're leaving?" Worry and a little hurt tinged his voice.

"I need a shower, too, and I have no clothes," Castiel explained.

"You can use my shower and stuff. I have extra toothbrushes. You can borrow clothes, and I have a washer and dryer," Dean offered, trying not to sound or look too hopeful.

"Are you sure? I don't want to impose."

Dean gave Castiel a dazzling smile. "What are friends for?" he parroted Castiel's earlier words.

Finally Castiel conceded, and Charlie slapped his back. "I'll even keep Dean from eating all of the food."

"Hey!"

Twenty minutes later, Castiel was dressed in plain gray sweatpants and a Star Wars tee that smelled like detergent and Dean. Charlie smirked, turning to show him her own Star Wars shirt as he came into the living room where she and Dean were playing a video game on the screen with little cars racing around. "Nice taste," she commented. "You a Star Wars fan?" She paused the video game.

"Dean showed me one of the movies yesterday."

"What? Only yesterday? You've never seen them before?" Charlie gaped.

"I grew up rather sheltered."

"We have to fix that!" Charlie practically shrieked.

Dean laughed. "That's what I said!"

Charlie dragged Dean to the middle of the couch. "Make room, bitch."

Dean shifted, glaring at her, and Castiel sank into the vacated cushion, warm from Dean's body heat. "What are you playing?"

"Mario Kart," Charlie replied. "Wanna play?" She grinned at him.

"Sheltered, remember?" Castiel sighed.

Charlie stared at him blankly for a few moments. "You're saying you've never played a video game before? Dean, show him how the controller works."

Dean leaned against Castiel, pushing the controller into his hands and pointing at buttons, listing their purposes. On his first attempt against Charlie, Dean kept one hand on his, giving gentle instructions. The proximity, however, was too much for Castiel, and he pushed the controller back at Dean. "I'm starving."

Dean tossed him the bag and then rolled his shoulder, kneading at it carefully with his fingers.

Castiel watched him for a moment. "Are you okay, Dean?"

"Sore. I'm due for more ibuprofen soon. If you wanna nuke your food, there's plates in the cabinet above the microwave."

"Can I bring you some painkillers as well?" he offered, and Dean shook his head.

"Nah, I got it, you eat."

Castiel nodded and slunk back into Dean's gorgeous kitchen, taking a deep breath and holding it to try to calm himself down. He couldn't push or he'd only push Dean away.

Several hours, dozens of games, and another Star Wars movie later, Charlie finally left, begging exhaustion. Dean and Castiel ordered Chinese food and watched the third Star Wars movie before Dean retrieved Castiel's clothes, warm from the dryer.

"Would you, uh, like to come by again? I could make burgers after I get to the store."

"I'd love to, whether you cook or not, Dean. But you need to rest right now."

"Y-yeah, okay, Cas."

On impulse, Castiel stepped toward Dean, gently wrapping his arms around his shoulders, and Dean went stiff. Castiel was about to pull away and apologize, cursing himself for his stupidity, when Dean carefully raised his arms to hug back.

"I'm glad you're here, Dean." He hoped Dean understood that he meant he was glad Dean was still alive.

"Me, too, Cas. Thanks. For everything."

Castiel pulled back just enough to look at Dean, but he didn't let go. "Call me, Dean. If you need anything, day or night. I'll always come when you call."

Dean blushed, averting his eyes. "Geez, Cas, you don't gotta do that. But way to make a guy feel special."

Castiel smiled softly. "You are special, Dean. I'm glad to have met you."

"Remember that the next time I pick on you for your pop culture cluelessness."

Castiel laughed. "You'll have to teach me, then."

Dean finally smiled back. "My master plan has worked, then. You'll have no choice but to come see me again."

"I planned to." Castiel forced himself to let go and step back before he did something stupid like kiss that smile right off of Dean's handsome face--especially since they had been hugging for far longer than was considered socially acceptable for two men who were just friends.

"Good night, Dean."

"Night, Cas."


	8. Save Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's not out of the woods yet--but the demons are not the ones that go bump in the night, they're in his head.

Fire. Heat. Pain.

So much pain.

_Pain._

PAIN.

_**PAIN.** _

Screaming, loud and piercing. Violent pounding noises.

Dean jerked awake with a gasp, realizing the screams were his, the pounding his frustrated neighbor beating against the wall. His panting breaths were deafening in the small bedroom.

Something warm and sticky oozed down his shoulder, and when he probed at it with hesitant fingers, they came away wet and dark, and pain lanced through his shoulder. He didn't want, couldn't be alone anymore. He needed...he needed Charlie. She was closest. He pawed at his phone on the bedside table, the blue glow illuminating his face with a mocking 3:30 am, and he scrolled through his contacts, counting mentally the exact number until Charlie's and blindly poking at the list. 

A few rings later, a sleepy voice answered, and not the one he was expecting.

"Dean?" Castiel rasped into his ear.

Dean pulled his phone back, staring at the screen and groaning. Charlie had added Castiel to his contacts.

"Dean, are you okay?" Castiel's voice filtered out from the phone's tiny speaker.

"Shit, Cas, 'm sorry, meant to call Charlie."

"What's wrong?"

"'s nothing, man, I just..." Dean tried to deflect.

"It's 3:30 in the morning. It's not a pizza you're calling for."

"I..." Dean flushed in the darkness of his room, suddenly embarrassed. "I had a nightmare and tore some of my stitches."

He could hear Castiel moving. "Alright, I'm on my way."

"Wh-Cas, no, you don't--"

"I don't have to do anything. I want to. Besides, I'm awake now, and I'm sure Charlie is still asleep."

"Cas..." Dean tried to cut in, but Castiel was having none of it.

"I'll be there in thirty minutes. Grab a clean towel and put pressure on the wound."

Dean's breathing stuttered.

"Dean, what is it?"

"Th-that's what Victor said before..." he trailed off.

"Dean, take a deep breath, please. I'll be there. If you're not sure if you'll be able to get to the door later, leave your front door unlocked."

"O-okay." Dean crawled out of bed, swaying slightly on his feet and wincing before he went to unlock the door and grab a towel. 

"Done," Dean informed him, feeling breathless with pain and exhaustion. He was beginning to crash as he came down from his panic, and somewhere in the distant reaches of his mind, he knew it. "Cas, I...." He swallowed hard, could hear a car starting in the background.

"Do you want me to stay on the phone, Dean?" Castiel asked. He sounded calm. How was Castiel so calm?

Dean was calm, too, though, but he felt like his panic should have been coming back to rise in his throat like bile. Instead, exhaustion began to sweep over him.

"Please..." Dean breathed out, shivering.

"Dean, I need you to stay awake. Talk to me. Tell me about Sam."

"Sam? Sam's....Sam's fucking amazing, Cas. He's...he's the smart one, y'know. 's a genius. 's a lawyer in Lebanon, got a girlfriend named Sarah. H-haven't met 'er yet, tha's why I didn't wanna go stay with 'im, didn't wanna meet 'er like tha'..." Dean's voice sounded thick and heavy, even to his own ears.

"He's not the only smart Winchester, Dean. Where'd he go to school?"

"Stanford...kid got into Stanford....I barely got my GED, Cas..."

Castiel huffed on the other end of the line. "Tell me about when you were kids."

"Mostly...mostly just me 'n Sammy, y'know....he says....he says I raised 'im more 'n Dad did..."

Castiel continued to prod Dean with questions, but even in his declining state, Dean still somehow managed to never go into much detail. Castiel could tell Dean was hiding something, the real reason for his lack of self-confidence, but Castiel tried his hardest to keep to questions that would bring up happy memories instead.

"Tell me about your favorite birthday, Dean."

"Don't really celebrate birthdays, Cas....Don't really celebrate anything. Never any point." Castiel made a mental note to ask about that later.

"Okay, so if you had to imagine the best birthday ever, what would it be?" Castiel pressed.

"Mm, you'll think it's stupid, Cas..."

"No, I won't, Dean. Tell me."

"Wakin' up nice 'n slow next to someone I love 'cause they're kissin' me awake...blueberry waffles in bed....all day movie marathon where we spend more time makin' out than watchin'...burgers 'n beer for dinner....doesn't even hafta be about sex, just to not be alone and to have someone in my life, Cas...told you it's stupid..."

Castiel had just pulled into a parking spot on the street, making sure his doctor's license plate was prominently visible.

"It's not stupid, Dean. It sounds wonderful. I wish..." Castiel cut off. He'd almost said something he knew he'd regret. "I hope you find them. Someone you can do that with."

"Cas?" Dean's voice sounded so weak, quivering faintly.

"Yes Dean?"

"'m so cold....just wanna sleep..."

"Dean, no, stay awake, I'm coming up the stairs now," For the first time, panic leaked its way into Castiel's voice.

Castiel ran the rest of the way, clutching his phone and medical bag as he charged into Dean's apartment, the door slamming behind him. "Dean!"

"Cas..." sounded weakly from the bedroom, and Castiel darted down the hall, pausing in the doorway to the bedroom. He took in the sight of Dean, pale and drawn with blood seeping through his shirt at his shoulder and on his side, a towel only pressed to his shoulder. He was barely sitting up, slumped over, his eyes glazed over and phone weakly grasped in his hand.

"Dean!" Castiel repeated, pocketing his own phone as he surged towards Dean.

Dean's head turned slowly, looking dazed as Castiel pulled his phone from his grip. "Cas....you're..."

"I'm here, Dean. We should get you to a hospital."

Dean weakly squirmed away. "No, Cas, n-no hospitals, please..."

Castiel twisted to flip on the lights, and Dean winced, but Castiel was grabbing for him and flashing a small light in his eyes. "Pupils equal and reactive, a bit sluggish but could be worse, no signs of issues from former head trauma." A thermometer pressed into his ear and Dean swayed as Castiel continued his exam. "Temperature is 98.2, within normal range." Castiel was probing and prodding, peeling Dean's fingers from the towel and tugging on the hem of Dean's shirt.

"Now...isn't really a good time to try to get me naked, Cas..." Dean joked weakly, but he raised his arms and allowed Castiel to peel his shirt off. Goosebumps rose on his skin in the cold air.

"If you can still joke, I have full confidence you'll survive." Castiel was relieved to find the bleeding had lessened, but he would need to restitch the wounds. "Stay awake. I'm getting you some food."

Dean was still confused, but he watched the door expectantly for Castiel to return. When he did, he shoved a peanut butter and jelly sandwich into Dean's hands and set a glass of apple juice on the nightstand. "Eat," he prompted. "You need blood sugar. I'll clean and stitch your wounds, then we need to change your bedding."

"Why?" Dean asked, mouth full after taking a bite.

"There's blood on your sheets and blankets."

"Oh."

Castiel worked quickly, stitching the four torn wounds shut again after sterilizing and numbing them. Taping fresh bandages in place, he cleaned up and then shifted Dean to the couch, throwing the blanket from the back of it over him. He then stripped the sheets, cleaning away only faint stains from the foam surface, and after a little hunting, found extra sheets and blankets. The pillows, thankfully, were spared.

When he returned to Dean, the poor guy had dozed off. Despite being shorter, Castiel managed to lift him with ease, but Dean snorted, rousing slightly. "Wha's happ'ng?"

"I changed the sheets. I'm taking you to bed."

"Not really 'n a state ta consent, Cas," Dean mumbled.

Castiel chuckled. "You're sleeping on the bed, not me."

"Oh." Dean sounded....well, Castiel didn't want to fool himself into thinking anything, but Dean sounded disappointed, of all things. "Are you leaving?"

"It's 4:30 am. I am too tired to drive home now." It was true, Castiel was coming down from his own adrenaline rush. "I'm sleeping on your couch."

"Okay." Dean's response was muffled as Castiel laid him down and leaned over him to adjust the pillows and blankets. He propped Dean up long enough to tug a clean tee on over his head. "Don't....don't go....without saying good bye."

"I won't, Dean."

"Promise?" Dean's voice sounded weak, childish almost.

"Promise."

And then Dean was out, just like that. Castiel locked the front door before settling on the couch.

An hour later, Castiel blearily awoke, his exhausted brain struggling to figure out why. Shit, had he forgotten to lock the door? He couldn't remember. Had someone broken in? Hastily, he got up and crept to the door--nope, he'd definitely locked it--listening carefully. Then he heard it--a low whining noise. Dean didn't have a dog, so it wasn't an animal. Making his way down the hall, he paused at Dean's door. Then he realized, the noise was Dean. It sharply rose in pitch and Dean twisted his body, trying to curl away from an unseen nightmarish assailant, and Castiel was at his side immediately.

"Dean!" he hissed, and Dean's whines rose in volume. Castiel grabbed his better shoulder to shake him and Dean shouted, shoving at Castiel and startling himself awake.

"N-no, don't hurt me, please!"

"Dean!" Castiel rushed back to him, gripping him tightly by the shoulder and shaking him slightly. "It's me, it's Cas. Look at me!"

Dean gasped for air, one hand clamping down on the one Castiel had pressed onto his shoulder. "Cas...? Where...?"

"You're home, you're safe. It's just me and you."

Dean forced himself to take deep breaths, not letting go of Castiel's hand. "The night you stayed with me in the hospital, I didn't have any nightmares...why did I....I thought I wouldn't have any with you here now..."

Even in the dark, Dean could see Castiel's face flush red.

"Cas, what did you do?" Dean looked up at him, pleading for answers.

"You'll be angry with me," Castiel nearly whispered, trying to pull away.

Dean took another steadying breath. "Just tell me, I'll try not to get mad."

"Y-you fell asleep on me, leaning on my shoulder. I had to go to the bathroom, but when I got back, you were starting to have a nightmare. I-I slid my arm under your shoulders to sit you up, to wake you, but you went quiet in-instead. I let you...I let you sleep against my chest for the rest of the night. I m-moved in the early hours. I didn't want to make you uncomfortable. I'm so sorry, Dean."

Dean sighed and pulled away, rolling to his side.

"I'll just go, then." Castiel stepped away, turning for the door.

"Cas?" Dean's voice cautiously cut through the air, and Castiel looked back to find Dean lifting the blankets behind himself. "Please? Just...don't make me beg, and promise me you won't tell anyone."

"I would never, Dean."

"Which one?"

"Either one." Castiel slid under the covers, realizing only now he was still clad in his own pajamas from home, a pair of sweats and a tee. He slid an arm over Dean's chest, pulling him back against himself. "Are you sure this is okay, Dean?"

"Just go to sleep, Cas."

 

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Sunlight was pouring in through the curtains as Dean slowly blinked awake, and it bled sluggishly into his awareness that his back was pressed against something warm and solid. Something breathing. Something alive. He stiffened, his pulse and breathing picking up in pace as he struggled to piece the previous night back together.

Fingers stroked soothingly through his hair and a familiar gravelly voice, roughened by sleep, vibrated against his ear. "Good morning, Dean. Take deep breaths. Do you remember last night?"

Dean twisted his head up, his breath catching in his throat to find Castiel's face so close. If he stretched up just a little more...wait, what? Where did that thought come from?

"Dean, breathe."

Dean gasped in a breath, turning his crimson face away. "N-not really, man. Did you take advantage of my innocence?" he joked. "Do I need to call my lawyer?"

Castiel was calm instead of rising to the bait. "You had a nightmare, tore your stitches out, and called me before you started going into shock. Then you asked me to stay with you after you had another nightmare." The hand in Dean's hair was still moving, and he relaxed slowly.

"Feels nice," Dean sighed before he could stop himself, and Castiel chuckled. "Shut up. 's been forever since I had something like this." Exhaustion seriously wore on Dean's brain-to-mouth filter.

"Something like what?"

"Something like where someone touches me like this, just to be...nice. Not 'cause they want more."

They lay like that together for a while longer before Dean asked, "What time's it?"

"Almost noon."

Dean tried to sit up, hindered by the arm wound around his chest. "Noon?"

"I called in, you're on leave. Calm down."

"What about food?"

"I ordered a pizza, relax."

Slowly, Dean's muscles unknotted and he sank back against Castiel again.

"I should ask your intentions toward me, sir," Dean finally laughed, and Castiel tensed slightly. 

"I would say friends, except you seem to flirt all of the time and then take it back. You don't seem to flirt with anyone else. So if we are doing the friends thing, I would appreciate it if you'd refrain from flirting with me in the future."

"Why do we have to have a label, though?" Dean needed to shut up. "I mean, why can't we be us?" Seriously, Dean's mouth, shut up. "Why can't it work this way?" Christ, his mouth wasn't listening. 

"Dean," Castiel sighed, and he pulled his hand from Dean's hair. "It can't. Because I'll fall in love with you. As it is, I already like you."

Dean swallowed hard. "I like you, too, Cas." Yup, his mouth was officially fired.

Castiel felt a lump forming in his throat. No, Dean couldn't mean...he couldn't mistake Dean's offer of friendship for anything else. He sighed again. "At the risk of sounding juvenile, no, Dean. I _like you_ like you."

Dean nodded carefully. "I know. Me, too. I just...I don't know what to do with this, Cas."

Castiel's heart thumped hard in his chest, soaring. Dean liked him. But his hesitance...."With what?"

"With any of this. With what I feel. What to do with you. Or what anyone will say."

"You already know what your father would say, so forget about him. Will your brother care? Your friends?" Castiel asked.

"I...well, I mean they know Charlie is a lesbian, and they like her girlfriend Gilda."

"So why would they care if you're...whatever we are?"

Dean was silent for a bit. "So what exactly are we doing, Cas?"

"Whatever we want."

"No, I mean are we supposed to...?"

"We can do whatever we want, Dean. We can go as fast or as slow as you need. I'm in no rush as long as I get to be with you."

Dean flushed faintly. "I just..." Dean faded off, struggling to start again. "There was Aaron, you can guess how that ended. Cassie lasted two weeks 'n she broke up with me over my dad's job. Lisa lasted a while, but I couldn't be what she deserved. I suck at the dating thing."

Castiel chewed his lower lip before deciding to give Dean an easy out. "Let's not date then." He resumed stroking Dean's hair. 

"What?" Dean croaked out. Was Castiel tired of him already? Or had he misheard? Misunderstood?

"Let's not date. Let's just...be. Hang out, keep doing what we're doing, see where it goes. Because it is going somewhere, isn't it, Dean?"

"Y-yeah, okay, Cas." Dean turned his head up again, peering at the tempting sight of Castiel's lips so close. "Can I....can I kiss you?"

"Dean, you don't ever have to ask to kiss or touch me. I'll be happy to ask you if it makes you more comfortable, but you don't have to ask me. The answer is always yes."

Dean nodded, licking his lips slightly and leaning upward toward Castiel's mouth, closer and closer until their lips were almost brushing.

Just then the front door slammed and Sam's merry voice called out, "Hey, jerk, I came to check if you're still alive, paid for your pizza by the way--JESUS CHRIST, DEAN!" Sam's large frame filled the open doorway, and he twisted away. "S-sorry, didn't know you were busy!" 

Dean groaned, pulling away from Castiel and rolling into a ball on his side. "Just kill me now, Cas, my service revolver is in my top drawer, so please shoot me before I die from humiliation here!"

Castiel frowned. "I will not, Dean. I haven't even had a chance to kiss you yet."

"Wait, what?" Sam turned around, pizza box clutched in his hands. "You haven't kissed? But I thought..."

"You thought what, Sam?" Dean groaned, muffled in his hands.

"I would have sworn you and Cas were dating."

"We're not dating, Sam," Castiel spoke up. "We are simply...together. Well, we are now. We were not when you and I first met, but..."

Sam grinned as Dean finally peeked up. "I knew it. I mean, I knew about Aaron, but he was wrong for you, all wrong, man."

Dean squinted at his gigantor of a baby brother. "Are you telling me, Sasquatch, that you don't have a problem with this?"

"As long as you're happy, nope. Screw Dad."

Huh. 

"Thanks, bitch," Dean replied with a grin, finally relaxing enough to unroll and shoot Castiel an apologetic glance. "He has always had the worst timing. Maybe later."

As Castiel and Dean climbed out of bed, Sam called back from the kitchen. "By the way, Charlie's had you pegged as queer for years. She's gonna flip when she finds out she's right."

"Son of a bitch, don't you dare!"

 

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Sam stayed a while to visit, telling stories to embarrass Dean until he threatened to shave Sam's head, and even then, Sam just kept laughing. He made one last attempt to convince Dean  to come stay with him, but at Dean's insistence he was fine, Sam's gaze slid sideways to Castiel. "I'm sure you are."

Dean glared, Sam grinned, and Castiel huffed a sigh. Finally, Sam decided he was heading back to the hotel to get some rest before he checked out in the morning. He glanced at Castiel.

"Do you need a lift?" Sam offered.

Castiel shook his head. "No thank you, Sam. I'm staying here tonight to keep an eye on Dean."

"Good to know your boyfriend is looking after you." Sam leered at Dean.

"He's not my boyfriend!" Dean protested.

"I'll...walk you out, Sam," Castiel volunteered, grabbing Sam and dragging him away by the arm. 

"Bye Dean!'

"Yeah, yeah..."

As soon as Castiel and Sam were downstairs, Sam broke the silence between them. "I know what I saw."

"I told you before, Sam. We are not dating. Dean doesn't want to do the 'boyfriend' thing," Castiel replied, going as far as to make air quotes.

Sam quirked a disbelieving brow. "So the kissing isn't boyfriend-slash-dating kissing?"

Castiel sighed and crossed his arms. "We weren't kissing."

"Yeah, dude, you were totally kissing."

Castiel narrowed his eyes, frustration from the afternoon coming back full force. "Contrary to your belief, Dean and I have not yet kissed."

The other brow joined the first one on Sam's face. "You're serious? But you two looked like..."

"We were going to, but someone barged in without knocking."

"Spare key," Sam replied sheepishly, but then a look of remorse came over him. "Oh, man. I totally interrupted your first kiss, didn't I?" Castiel's annoyed expression only confirmed Sam's statement. "I'm an ass."

"Fair observation."

"Look, I'm out of your hair now, so you two can...whatever," Sam offered weakly.

"The moment's over now, and Dean's tired. Frankly, so am I. We're...taking things slow. I don't want to scare Dean off or push him away," Castiel replied, sighing heavily.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry. And thanks for looking after him. He needs it." Sam smiled faintly, waving as he turned to go. "Bye, Cas."

Castiel nodded. "Goodbye, Sam."

He wandered back upstairs tiredly, only to find Dean missing from the living room. 

"Dean?"

"In here," Dean called from the bedroom, and Castiel leaned against the doorjamb.

"Is it okay that I said I'm staying?" he asked Dean hesitantly.

"Only if you're actually staying." Dean climbed into bed and scooted over to make room, waiting on Castiel to get ready for bed. A few minutes later, the light was out and Castiel was tucked behind Dean, touching from shoulders to thighs.

"I have to get up early for work tomorrow, okay?" Castiel said, the words breathed against the nape of Dean's neck. Dean shivered slightly but grunted noncommittally. "Can I come back tomorrow night after work?"

Dean twisted in the dark, rolling in Castiel's arms to face him. "Do you....want to? I mean, it's a bit of a commute, but--"

He stopped when Castiel pressed a finger against his lips. "I want to, very much. I just need to get some clothes from home."

Dean yawned widely, blinking away tears from the corners of his eyes. "I can make room for your stuff, give you a drawer."

"I'd like that."

Dean tucked forward, snuggling his head under Castiel's chin before passing out soon after.

Dean honestly seemed surprised later the next evening when Castiel did come back, but he tried to keep it to himself just how happy it made him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late, end of the school year, and this was so huge I decided to split it into two chapters.
> 
> Dean is not severely hurt or bleeding heavily, he's mostly in shock from being scared out of his mind.


	9. Moving Forward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean goes back to work, but it's questionable how smooth the transition is.

When Dean finally returned to work two weeks later, stitch-free but still sore, Charlie was the first to pounce on him.

"Why didn't you tell me, your best queer friend, that you're gay?" she demanded accusingly, grabbing his arm in a vice-like grip he couldn't escape. He winced, tugging.

"Wh--I'm not--"

"Or at least bisexual since you like chicks, too!"

"I'm not--"

"And why didn't you tell me you and Cas were dating when I met him?"

"We're not--"

"You should have introduced him as your boyfriend!"

"He's not--"

"Do I really have to hear these things from Sam?"

Dean froze at the same time as Charlie, the red-head's eyes wide.

"I'm going to kill him," Dean growled, his eyes narrowed.

"Oops."

Dean sighed, still pinning Charlie with an angry glare. "For the record, we are not dating and he's not my boyfriend." He shifted to pull away and escape, but Victor, Benny, and Kevin descended on him.

"Hey, guys. Benny, how are Andrea and the new baby?" Dean immediately went for a distraction, grinning weakly and crossing mental fingers with a hope he knew he had no business having.

"Good, good, but what I want to hear 'bout is this new beau of yours," Benny replied with a predatory grin that made Dean's stomach twist in nervous knots.

"I'd rather hear how the Demon King case is coming," Dean tried to deflect elsewhere. Tactic launch and....failure to strike.

"You're off it, now tell us about that new boyfriend," Victor chuckled.

"I don't have a boyfriend," Dean said, frowning and glancing among them.

"Sure you do. A sweetheart, a lover, something," Kevin insisted.

"I don't--"

"Look, Charlie told us what Sam told her," Rufus' aging voice cut in, and Dean went still. 

"W-will you keep it down, Rufus? I don't want Bobby to know anything about--"

"So you do have a boyfriend!" Kevin crowed, grinning victoriously.

Dean wheeled on the younger man. "He's not my boyfriend!" he hissed, eyes narrowed in a venomous glare.

Charlie cleared her throat. "Uh, Bobby already knows, dude."

The blood drained from Dean's face and he suddenly felt faint. "H-he what?" His voice sounded weak to even his own ears.

"Calm down, boy," Rufus rumbled. "Bobby ain't your daddy."

"Might as well have been for how much I raised him 'n his brother when their daddy was off on cases."

Shit. That was Bobby, and there was no hope of a hole opening up in the Earth and swallowing him whole. If that didn't work, then passing out would be a welcome second choice right about now, not that it seemed any more likely. He couldn't force himself to turn and face Bobby, couldn't stand to see anger or disappointment on his face. But Bobby didn't give him a choice and circled around in from of him, the others scattering.

"Dean."

Dean swallowed hard and raised his eyes, stunned to find Bobby only regarding him kindly with a slight smile. "Maybe Rufus is right, I'm not yer dad. In more ways than one. I don't care if you have a boyfriend instead of a girlfriend."

"I don't have a boyfriend!" Dean insisted again.

"But you and this Castiel fella are together, ain't ya?" Bobby asked.

Dean lowered his gaze again. "Y-yeah..."

"Okay so maybe he ain't yer boyfriend, but he's the one yer with. Are ya happy with him?"

"Yeah." Dean's voice was a little stronger now, firmer and more resolute.

"Then we're happy for ya. All of us. An' if yer dad were a better man, he'd be happy, too. The fact that he ain't happy ain't a reflection on you, 'cause he ain't ever happy anyway. It don't matter if he ain't happy about this, son. You 'n Sam are my boys, 'n you know I support ya. Now enough mushy stuff. When do we get ta meet this fella?"

Charlie grinned. "I already met him."

Suddenly, everyone's attention was on Charlie, turning on her for information. Everyone except Bobby, whose attention remained on Dean. "So? You're gonna introduce us, ain't ya?"

"Maybe, Bobby. Dunno how serious this is yet. Don't want to....y'know, have it not work out."

Bobby frowned. "Now I know I need ta meet this fella."

Dean glanced up at Bobby, eyeing him. "Gonna give him the 'if you hurt him I hurt you' speech?"

Bobby chuckled. "More like grill him on his intentions."

"Thanks, I'll rush right out to invite him to meet you," Dean replied sarcastically.

"He should probably meet Ellen 'n Jo, too."

Dean coughed slightly. "Eh, he actually lives in Lawrence, loves The Roadhouse."

Bobby raised a brow. "Do they know he's yer...that you're....seeing one another?"

Dean winced and rubbed his cheek at the memory. "Nope. Jo wasn't so happy to see me, either."

"Your fault, " Bobby snorted.

"Mine??"

"I know you never visit or call."

Dean grumbled under his breath. 

"You can't avoid Lawrence and yer dad forever, son. He's gonna find out sooner or later 'bout Castiel anyway, and he'll be more pissed than a wet cat. Might as well get it over with."

Dean's fingers worked into his palm, and he winced. "How is Dad your best friend?"

"He was different when he was younger. Weird thing about friends, son, sometimes they just are. Some people, like yer dad, let loss kill 'em. They let their lives go to ruin. Yer dad did. Some people, they just learn to value the ones they have left, no matter what."

"You did."

"Yep." 

"Thanks, Uncle Bobby."

"No problem, son. And I mean it that I want to meet him."

"We'll see."

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Charlie swung by his desk an hour later, a folder in her hands.

"So how is it?" she asked, grinning and with a glint in her eyes.

"How's what?" Dean asked, peering up at her from the backlog of papers on his desk in utter confusion, raising his coffee cup to his lips.

"The sex!" Charlie asked in a hushed, excited whisper.

"The _**what**_?" Dean yelped as he spat coffee all over the desk.

Everyone on the main floor looked up, peering at Dean's open office door with curiosity, the rest of Dean's team creeping closer to eavesdrop.

"Come on, you never had a problem bragging about the sex with all of your hookups with the ladies," Charlie countered, almost whining.

Dean mopped up coffee from his desk before glaring up at her. "We haven't even kissed yet, Charlie."

"Wait, what?" Shock and disbelief were evident on her face. "How long have you two been da--uh, together?"

"Two weeks?"

Charlie stared at Dean, struggling to puzzle that out. "Are you being a gentleman or something?"

Dean flushed, hiding behind his coffee mug. "No."

"No?"

"He is."

Charlie's eyes widened. "Are you serious? I thought you would have jumped at the chance for sex!"

"Shh!" Dean hissed, glaring at Charlie. "I-It's different. He's different."

"Well, yeah, he's got a dick instead of a pussy. But sex!"

"Charlie!" Dean's voice rose in pitch, scandalized.

"What?"

"I've....I've never..." Dean's blush stained up the tips of his ears and down past his collar.

"Never...with a guy?"

Dean shook his head shyly.

"I can give you tips," Charlie offered, grinning, but Dean sat up abruptly.

"Charlie!" Dean barked, banging his head on the table. Charlie jumped at the sound and abrupt display.

"What?"

"You're a lesbian. You don't have sex with dudes. Now are you here for work or to waste my time? Don't you have a hobbit hole to scurry back to, Queen of Moondork?"

"Moondor, and yes, I do have work. Since Victor is taking over the Demon King case, you're taking his."

"Wait, what?"

"Victor told you, you're off the Demon King case. As a victim, you're too close. Another pathologist has been assigned as well, due to the threat on Castiel's life."

"Great. So what case am I getting?"

"Another devil case. Or he calls himself that, at least. We have an ID, but we think it's fake, nothing comes up," Charlie finally offered up information on the folder clutched in her hands.

"What's the name?" Dean asked, steeling himself for something strange. 

"Nick Morningstar."

"Yeah, sounds fake if you ask me."

Charlie handed him the file and began flipping through pictures of the victims for him. "Guy has a definite type." 

Suddenly, Dean's stomach churned. He was looking down into blue eyes crowned with dark hair.

Shit. They all looked like Castiel.

"Something wrong?" Charlie asked, brow scrunching in concern.

Dean cleared his throat. "Nope." He stood and strode towards the door. "Gonna ask Victor for some more information, any thoughts he had--"

Dean cut off when he ran headlong into the whole team crowded around his door and listening in. "What the hell? Get back to work!"

Everyone scattered at that, even Bobby. He'd have to give them a thorough talking-to about professionalism later, but for now...

"Victor, we gotta talk..."

"Then let's talk in your office. You wanna talk about Morningstar, right?"

"Yep."

Victor sat across from Dean, glancing over the paperwork spread out.

"I don't know what to tell you. Descriptions of the killer aren't consistent, name's fake, no pattern to the timings or locations of the murders. The only connection is the same hair and eye color of the victims, or similar enough."

"So what, we just put out a widespread warning? If you're a dude in your prime with blue eyes and dark hair, be scared?"

"Chief..."

"Shit. Anything consistent about the murders themselves?"

"People close to the victims said they seemed like they were losing their minds in the weeks prior to the murders. Misplacing things, seeing things, talking to people that weren't there. They were all hanged, but autopsies revealed someone else had to have done it. The angle was not self-inflicted." Victor rattled off the information easily.

"Made to look like suicide," Dean mused.

"Yeah. The descriptions are of people they supposedly saw, but they're all over the map."

"Geez. I'll have to ask around then, won't I?"

"How about your boyfriend? He's an ME." Victor grinned.

"Not my boyfriend, and don't make me punch you."

"You wouldn't."

"Get out of my office, Henrikson," Dean growled, and Victor left, laughing. "Jackass."

He fiddled with his phone for a moment, dialing as he shut his office door.

"Hey Cas," Dean said as soon as he picked up, his smile evident in his voice.

"Hello, Dean. How is your first day back?"

"I have bodies to bury."

"That bad?"

"Yes. I'm actually calling about a case. Dead end, but I was hoping...I mean, I won't bring work home if you say no."

"I can take a look, Dean."

"Thanks, baby." Dean flushed as soon as the endearment left his mouth. "I--I mean--"

"You're welcome, sweetheart."

"Oh." One simple word punched the air out of his lungs. "Say it again."

"What?" Cas was confused by Dean's reaction, but a moment later he understood. "Oh....sweetheart?" he repeated tentatively.

Dean made a soft, pleased noise. "I like that."

Castiel couldn't help but grin. "I'll see you tonight, sweetheart."

Dean flushed. "Y-yeah..."

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Castiel grinned when he stepped into the apartment that evening. Slowly, his things were taking up residence here--clothes, shoes, a favorite blanket, a couple of photos, his toothbrush and fruity shampoo beside Dean's-- and that plus the smell of Dean and burgers made him relax happily as he set his laptop on the table by the door with his keys. Keys Dean had given him for the building.

"I'm home, sweetheart!" Castiel called, wandering toward the kitchen.

Dean leaned back, freshly showered and holding a pan of sizzling food. "You're gonna use that against me all the time, aren't you?"

"Maybe not all of the time," Castiel laughed. "But plenty enough!"

Dean grunted and turn off the pans, wiping his hands on a towel before stepping forward to wrap his arms around Castiel's neck and nuzzle under his jaw. Castiel's arms looped firmly around his waist, holding him close as he brushed his nose against Dean's forehead.

Since "the interruption", Castiel and Dean had not made a second attempt at their "first kiss". Sure, there was kissing--on cheeks, noses, foreheads--but Dean wanted the moment for their first real kiss to be just right, and Castiel respected that. He also respected his promise to Dean, brushing his nose against Dean's forehead again. "Can I kiss you here?" he asked shyly.

Dean nodded and sighed happily as Castiel pecked a feather-light kiss on his skin, inhaling deeply. 

"Does it smell good?" Dean laughed, and Castiel smiled.

"Actually, I was thinking you smell good."

Dean flushed, and Castiel pressed another kiss to his forehead before releasing him. "You can't just go around saying shit like that," Dean complained.

"I can and I will. Now, I'm starving, sweetheart." At that, Dean's smile returned, and he served dinner.

Castiel moaned as he took the first bite. "You were right."

Dean's head jerked up at Castiel's moan, pink tinging his cheeks. "Geez, Cas, you make noises like that, you're gonna give a guy a complex. And right about what?"

"You do make the best burgers."

This time, Dean's blush was a flush of pride. "I can't believe you remember that."

Castiel paused mid-bite, meeting Dean's eye. "I remember lots of things, Dean."

"Mm, so this case..."

"Let me see," Castiel said, motioning for the folder Dean had set out on the table.

"You sure you want to look while you're eating?"

"I've eaten lunch in the morgue after doing an autopsy on a floater."

"Yuck." Dean grabbed the folder as Castiel shoved a homemade fry in his mouth. He grabbed the folder from Dean and flipped it open, his brow furrowing as he peered at the victims' photos.

"Tell me about the victims?"

Dean relayed Victor's information, and Castiel slowly paled, dropping his food on his plate and rubbing his face with his hands.

"Cas?" Dean reached out and touched Castiel's shoulder, and Castiel flinched with a broken noise.

"Baby? Baby, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Dean apologized weakly, pushing Castiel's chair back and crawling into his lap to straddle him. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have shown you, I'm sorry." Dean pulled Castiel's hands from his face, cupping his cheeks with his own hands and pressing kisses to tears tracking slowly down his face.

"No, no, I'm glad you did. His name isn't Nick Morningstar."

Dean pulled back to look Castiel in the eye. "Wait, you think you know who did it?"

Castiel sniffled and nodded. "I-If it's who I think it is, his name is Lucifer Milton."

Dean couldn't contain a snort. "Who names their kid Lucifer? More importantly, what makes you think that?"

Castiel's eyes dropped, even with Dean's hands still on his face.

"There are three reasons why people become doctors, aside from the ones who think doctors make good money."

"Cas--"

"One, they have a doctor in the family. Two, they or a family member were very sick, or a family member died of illness. Three, they want to help people."

"Why did you become a doctor?" Dean asked, deciding to try to follow along.

"I didn't want to be a doctor." Dean started in surprise. "It was only a required stepping stone. I wanted to be a pathologist, a medical examiner. I wanted to know how people died, to comfort families with answers, or allow people like you to catch killers."

"Why?" Dean's brow furrowed in confusion and concern.

"He murdered one of my brothers."

Dean gaped. "Then why isn't he in jail? I mean, shouldn't he be?"

Castiel shook his head slightly. "He was tried as a juvenile, locked up until he turned 18, and then he was released. He disappeared."

"Fine, we'll have to get his court records."

"They were destroyed as part of his plea deal."

"So we have nothing again," Dean huffed.

Castiel chewed on his lower lip. "I might be able to get a picture. Not a recent one, but there is age progression software."

Dean's brow scrunched further. "How do you have a picture?"

"I saved a few things from my brother's case. They can't be used as evidence, though."

"I know."

 Dean caught his lower lip in his teeth, sliding his hands to Castiel's neck and tangling his fingers in Castiel's hair.

"When my mom died--"

"Dean, you don't have to tell me."

"You told me something about your family. My turn." Dean's fingers rubbed soothing patterns against Castiel's skin. "I was four, Sammy was six months old when she died. Or, well...was murdered, actually." Dean paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. "My dad was tracking a killer who called himself Azazel. He was killing young mothers with infant sons. Bobby said he told my dad not to take the case, but he was cocky. While he was tracking a lead, only a half hour away, Azazel broke into our house. He cut her open and left her to bleed while he stood there, feeding Sam her blood."

"Dean..." Castiel breathed out slowly, eyes wide at the horrible story.

"I kn-know because I saw, Cas. I saw. I ran to my parents' room and locked myself in, called 911, but by the time the police and my dad got back, he lit her on fire...couldn't let her bleed to death. He burned her alive, and the house nearly with it. My dad shoved Sam into my arms and sent me downstairs, but Mom...it was too late." Dean's voice quivered and he drew in a deep breath to try and steady himself. "Sam's always been the golden child. He and Dad fought constantly but still it was never...no matter what I did to make Dad happy, it was always my fault, Cas. My fault she died."

"It was never your job to make him happy or save her, Dean. That's an unfair expectation to have of a child. That's unfair blame to place on a child."

Dean leaned forward, tucking his head against Castiel's neck, wincing as his hand spasmed. Castiel pulled it between his own, massaging Dean's palm, the taller man relaxing against him.

"Cas?" Dean sounded tired.

"Yes, Dean?"

"Move in with me."

Castiel stilled.

"I know it hasn't been long, Cas, but I know I want you with me. We can...we can find a place closer to Lawrence or..." 

"Yes."

Dean pulled his head up to look Castiel in the eye. "Really? You don't feel that we're...rushing?"

"I wanted your company from the the start, sweetheart. And...I have some news. The BAU offered me a position as a medical examiner and medical expert, and for my skills as a linguist."

Dean's brows shot up. "When?"

"About three weeks ago. I asked for a month to work on a replacement."

"Wait, that's before we..." Dean calculated.

"When I started working on the case. Benny was impressed and told Director Cain."

"You never told me."

"It didn't matter at first, and then I didn't know how. My place is already on the market and I was looking for an apartment here. I guess I'll have to tell my realtor."

Dean nodded. "Yeah...yeah, you will. You're mine and you're staying here."

"I'm yours?" Castiel asked, grinning widely.

Dean's cheeks colored and he opened his mouth to speak.

"I love it," Castiel cut him off, kissing Dean on the tip of his nose.

"So your replacement...?" Dean trailed off.

"Meg."

Dean nodded. "Good." He pressed a kiss to the corner of Castiel's mouth, and Castiel smiled. Closer. Not there yet, but closer.

"This is nice, Cas," Dean sighed, and Castiel shook his head fondly.

"It is, but my dinner's getting cold."


	10. Testing You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Castiel get invited to Sam's birthday, but Dean's afraid of how it'll go. As if that isn't enough, he blurts out something that might ruin everything!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last full week of work for this school year!
> 
> But then I had to go and drop my binder and it took forever to sort out the pages from these chapters!

Even with a name and an age progression from a worn photo, no progress was made on the newly renamed Lucifer case. Dean didn't share his source, and Charlie knew better than to ask since ratting out such a source could have grisly ends now and then.

Information on Lucifer Milton--in fact, information on the whole Milton clan--was scant. It was discovered that he had siblings named Michael and Samandriel, and that his mother was named Naomi Milton. Things seemed rather...scrubbed, almost as if a professional had been paid to keep as much information as possible from being leaked on them. Kind of hinky, if you asked Dean.

What was worse was that leads on the Demon King case had petered out, too. More than ten days had passed since Dean's nightmare in Hell, more than twenty even. The killings had stopped altogether. They subpoenaed Adler's phone records for the day Crowley was supposed to last check in, and of the calls that were not confirmed as other parolees, the rest were cold calls and a call from an area hotel. Staff were questioned, shown pictures, security footage was taken and reviewed, but Crowley's face never came into view. Police in the area were ordered to be alert, but there was little more that could be done.

But an even more frightening thing on the agenda was Sam's birthday. Not only was Dean going to meet Sarah, Sam had insisted on inviting Castiel as well. Dean said he didn't have to come because he didn't want Castiel to be uncomfortable around a bunch of strangers, but Castiel had shut him up with a knowing smile.

"Are you trying to spare me a slew of 'I'll hurt you if you hurt him' speeches?" Castiel was laughing.

"Shut up!' Dean flushed bright red. "I don't....I just..."

"Are you worried about explaining our relationship?" The laughter faded to genuine concern.

"It's not...is it?" Dean's blush spread.

"Dean. You have a relationship with anyone you meet. Strangers, acquaintances, friends, brother, uncle....eh...." Castiel trailed off before peering up at Dean almost nervously. "Us?"

Dean blew out a slow breath and nodded. "It's not that I'm ashamed, Cas. I swear. I'm just..."

"Scared?" Castiel supplied.

"No!" Dean winced at his shout. "Yes? Sort of. I just....I know the team is okay with it, and Sam....but Ellen and Jo, Ash, Garth, the guys from the auto shop in town...and I've never met Sarah. What if she's a, you know..."

"I doubt Sam would date a homophobe, Dean, and if they're really your friends, they'll accept it. They'll accept you."

Dean's gaze remained downward and he shuffled his feet, rubbing his hands together nervously. "I know they're gonna tease me, even if they mean well. Calling it dating, calling you my boyfriend, it just seems so juvenile. We're not 14."

"Lover?" Castiel offered the word casually.

"We've never even--" Dean sputtered hastily, "--and geez, we're under sixty!"

"Significant other."

Dean huffed a sigh, and Castiel shook his head. "Cas, why do we have to call it anything?" Dean reached out and snagged Castiel's hand. "You're mine. My Cas. One word couldn't possibly encompass everything you are to me otherwise." Dean watched Castiel with an earnest expression.

"Dean," Castiel breathed out slowly, eyes wide and awed. He opened his arms, reaching for Dean. "Can I...?"

Dean stepped into his arms in response, winding his arms around Castiel's waist and leaning his forehead against the other man's.

"Dean, I..." Castiel paused, licking his lips, when Dean suddenly felt a cold stab of dread. If Castiel said it, if he said what Dean thought he was going to say, Dean knew he couldn't say it back. Not yet. He turned his head, nuzzling Castiel's cheek.

"I need you, Cas."

Castiel seemed to understand, because he smiled and nodded. "I need you, too." He raised one hand to cup Dean's cheek, his thumb brushing over the corner of Dean's mouth. "Can I kiss you here?" 

Dean turned his head slightly in offering and Castiel tipped his head forward to press a tender kiss where his thumb had been moments ago. Dean's eyes slipped shut as the other man ran his thumb over Dean's lips lightly. "I won't ever rush you or force you, Dean. I don't want to make you feel like you owe me anything. But I hope one day you'll let me kiss you here."

Dean's eyes opened, hazily glazed over. "One day, Cas," Dean murmured, voice husky. "Soon, I promise. Just...not yet. It's not...it's not the right time."

"Are you waiting for the perfect moment?" Castiel grinned, rubbing his nose against Dean's cheek.

"I'm waiting for the moment when it's the only thing I can do, Cas. The moment where no other response is going to work. We only get one first kiss."

Castiel started chuckling softly, quivering with glee in Dean's arms.

"What?" Dean demanded, eyes narrowing.

"You're a romantic!"

"I am not!" Dean growled, pulling back to glare at Castiel, who just kept laughing until Dean shoved his face away, which only made him laugh harder.

"Yeah, yuk it up. Enough sappy shit, this ain't a chick flick."

"It totally is," Castiel crowed, cracking up even worse as he darted out of range when Dean growled again and took a playful swat at him.

"It's an action movie!" Dean declared. "With chase scenes and murder and intrigue and explosions!"

Castiel bolted down the hall, calculating as Dean gave chase. "Totally a romcom, sweetheart! There's only one kind of explosion I want in this feature!"

Dean skidded to a halt at the innuendo, gulping nervously and eyeing Castiel.

Castiel paused and turned to face Dean, brow scrunched in confusion. "What's wrong?" His eyes rounded in understanding a moment later. "Oh! Dean, I--I didn't mean right this minute! I meant...I hoped for...someday."

"I know..." Dean shuffled his feet uncomfortably.

"Dean--"

"I know, Cas!" Dean bit out, more harshly than he intended, and Castiel flinched. "I can't help feeling like a horrible person about it. If you were a chick, I'd have already slept with you and moved on! But this? I don't know what to do with this. I don't want it to end up the same. I don't want to rush it, I don't want to break us. But I keep making you wait because I've never been this serious about someone, anyone, let alone a guy before. I've never been so totally gone on someone before!"

Despite the harsh tone, Castiel smiled at the words and approached Dean, pulling him back into his arms.

"Dean, you are worth waiting for."

"But what if I'm never ready for that, Cas? Can you really deal with never having...?"

Castiel ran his fingers through Dean's hair. "Then we never have sex."

Dean flinched slightly at the word. "But--"

"I can take care of myself, you know. As I'm sure you can. Masturbation is not that difficult. It's just more fun with someone else."

"I know," Dean mumbled against Castiel's shirt. "But how does a romantic relationship work without sex?"

"Sex and love are two completely separate concepts, Dean. Plenty of people have sex without love. You can love someone, or even be in love with someone, without sex. Asexual people do it all the time."

"I'm not asexual."

"It was just an example. I don't require sex to want to be with you, Dean. My feelings will not go away without sex."

"Thanks Cas, for, uh....saying that. It means everything to me. You mean everything to me."

"You mean everything to me as well. Now let's get going before we're late."

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

The Roadhouse looked very different that evening when Dean pulled the Impala up in front of it, balloons tied to the porch rails and a "Closed" sign on the doors.

"Dean, why did you say you've never really celebrated your birthday?" Castiel asked, peering at the decorations with his eyes narrowed.

"When did I say that?"

"That night you accidentally called me instead of Charlie. I was trying to keep you talking and asked about your favorite birthday. You said there was no point in celebrating it, yet you celebrate Sam's."

Dean shrugged one shoulder and glanced over at him. "Sam was a kid still. He needed it, so we kept doing it. Mine? Didn't matter. If Sam said 'Happy Birthday', it was more than Dad ever did for me." Dean huffed out a breath. "Never forgot Sam's though."

"Dean..."

"It's not a big deal, Cas. It's not like we celebrated much of anything."

Castiel frowned but nodded once, following Dean into the restaurant, stumbling into him when he ground to an abrupt halt. He stepped around to Dean's side, laying a hand on his arm to try to offer comfort and support. "Dean, we don't have to be here. They haven't even noticed us yet," he said, glancing around the crowd and back at Dean's pale face and wide, frightened eyes.

Dean opened his mouth to reply, fingers tightening on the gift in his hand, when Jo looked up and shouted across the room, "Dean! What took you so long?" She leaned forward slightly, catching sight of Dean's companion. "Castiel, what are you doing here?"

Dean coughed faintly, his cheeks coloring as he reached for Castiel's hand and threaded their fingers together. The rest of the crowd turned, several of them zeroing in on their clasped hands. Charlie made an audible squeak and grinned.

"He's, uh, with me," Dean finally said.

Jo's eyes widened. "Oh my god, Charlie wasn't kidding!" she squealed, rushing over to throw her arms around Dean. Dean awkwardly hugged her back with one arm.

"Uh, what?" he asked, rather eloquently if he did say so himself.

"Charlie said you were seeing someone. I said I'd believe it when I see it!"

"You, uh...." Dean pulled his hand free from Castiel's to rub the back of his neck. "You don't care that it's Cas?"

Ellen laughed as she joined them and hugged Dean, too. "Of course not! We're both fond of him."

Dean felt his cheeks heat. "What about everyone else?"

"If any of 'em give either of you trouble, send 'em my way," Ellen replied with a wide grin. Jo latched onto Castiel and Ellen onto Dean, dragging them toward the crowd.

"So this is the mysterious boyfriend!" Bobby teased. Dean winced.

Charlie and Jo turned to one another, "awwing" in unison.

"So, since Dean's being rude, introductions!" Ellen shouted, clapping her hands. "I heard you've met Charlie, Benny, and Victor." She nodded toward a woman with long dark curly hair holding a newborn. "This is Benny's wife, Andrea, and their daughter, Cherie." Next she pointed to three men, one younger and Asian and two older, one black, and one white. "Kevin Tran, Rufus Turner, Bobby Singer. Bobby Singer is my boyfriend," Ellen grinned, elbowing Castiel slightly. Near to them were a skinny guy with almost greasy brown hair, a blond guy with a mullet, and a guy with a military crew cut. "Garth Fitzgerald, you might know him from Singer Salvage and Auto, Ash Harvelle, my adopted son, and Cole Trenton. Cole is a retired marine. He and Ash are going to be replacing Rufus and Bobby at the BAU soon so the old men can retire and go back to working at the auto shop. The other guys who work there aren't here tonight, but they're quitting pretty soon to head off to college."

"Bet Dean's looking forward to a team of young 'uns," Bobby added with a grin.

"Dude, don't kid yourself. I'll miss you old dogs. Maybe I'll have more of a reason to come visit," Dean chuckled.

Ellen's smile softened. "I'd love that, Dean."

Jo took the present from Dean and added it to a pile on a table, and just then the door swung open, admitting Sam and a thin young woman with wavy dark brown hair and hazel eyes that were a touch more green than brown.

"Sam!" Ellen greeted, rushing forward to hug him as the group chorused, "Happy Birthday!"

Sam pulled the brunette woman forward to introduce her. "Thanks everyone!" Sam grinned. "This is my girlfriend, Sarah Blake. She owns an art gallery in Lebanon, which is how we met. I went to an exhibition there and fell in love at first sight." He began to introduce Sarah individually, coming to Dean and Castiel first. "This is my brother, Dean, and his...uh..." Sam scratched his head, looking at Dean for help.

"Uh....Castiel Novak. My Cas."

Sarah grinned and if she noticed Dean's awkwardness, she was at least polite enough not to point it out. "I've heard so much about you, Dean! But not that you were dating someone so gorgeous!"

Castiel took Dean's hand, shooting him a small smile. "We're just together, nothing fancy."

"And anyway," Dean cut in, aiming to sidetrack the conversation out of the red zone of discomfort, "he probably told you only the worst things about me."

"On the contrary. When we first met, he couldn't stop talking about his awesome big brother. He really admires you and looks up to you," Sarah replied, and Dean felt himself mentally tilt off-kilter. Sam looked up to him? A fuck-up like him? He wasn't someone worth looking up to, that was ridiculous.

But just then, Jo pulled out a camera, waving it around. "Let's get a picture of the Winchester brothers kissing their sweethearts!"

Sam unabashedly grabbed Sarah and kissed her square on the mouth, the camera going off with a flash. 

"Okay, Dean," Jo prodded. "Your turn, kiss your boy for us!"

Castiel swallowed hard, but Dean pulled him in, tilting his chin and pressing a sweet kiss to Castiel's forehead.

Jo narrowed her eyes at the display. "Lame! A real kiss!'

Dean flipped the bird at her. "That's the best you're getting, take a picture or lose out!"

"Fine," Jo grumbled, capturing the image as Dean pressed a second kiss to Castiel's brow.

"Way lame, Winchester," she repeated herself as Andrea dragged Sarah off to hold the baby.

Before Dean could react, Sam was dragging Castiel off in a different direction, leaving Dean with Jo.

"Soooo," she said, grabbing him by the arm, "spill. Cas is totally hot, but is he a good kisser? Any good in bed?"

Dean's mouth fell open and he felt his cheeks burn. "Jo!'

"You never had a problem talking about that kind of stuff before, don't be shy now!"

Dean groaned. "Jo, we haven't...done any of that!"

Jo stared for a moment before she burst out laughing. "Very funny, Dean, now spill."

"I'm serious! We've never had sex. We haven't even kissed yet!"

Jo's eyes narrowed. "I just saw you kiss."

"We've never properly kissed...on the lips or anything," Dean mumbled in reply, ducking his head in embarrassment.

Jo eyed him, disbelief slowly dissolving. "You're serious."

Dean nodded. "Yeah."

"What are you waiting for?"

"The right time. I'm working through some shit first."

"Better work faster or you'll lose him," Jo said, nudging him. 

Dean's head jerked up, glaring. "No, I won't. He's willing to wait. He said so."

"No one will wait forever."

"Cas isn't like that," Dean protested weakly. But what if she was right?

 

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Sam pulled Castiel away from Dean and the rest of the crowd, grinning at him like a fool, and Castiel felt a little worry trickle in.

"Hello, Sam. Happy Birthday."

"Thanks, Cas. You know, I didn't give you the speech before, since I felt like an ass for interrupting, but I'm here to do that now."

"The speech?" Castiel raised one brow.

"The 'if you hurt him I hurt you' speech."

"Ah. Dean has already informed me I will likely hear it from Bobby and Ellen as well," Castiel replied.

"Yeah, except I mean it. Dean means everything to me." Sam's face and voice were both serious.

"Me too, Sam. I get it," Castiel responded gently.

"No, you don't. Dean was more of a father to me than our own Dad ever was. He raised me and he thinks I don't know every sacrifice he made, every time he got hurt or let himself be broken, all to take care of me and let me be a kid, to protect me from the monsters of the world. Dean's gone through his whole life thinking his job, his sole purpose and only value, was to look out for me, and then other people when I was finally forced to push him away. He's happy for once in his life, and he deserves it. So don't kid yourself, even for a second, that I will not personally rip you apart if you hurt him."

"I know hundreds of ways to kill a person, Sam, many without a trace," Castiel countered, but Sam didn't seem even remotely perturbed by the returned threat.

"Yeah? I only need one way and hundreds of reasons why it was justifiable." Sam grinned.

"And that's why you're a lawyer and I'm just a pathologist."

"You bet."

The relatively quiet chatter fell dead silent as the door slammed open and in strode none other than John Winchester, already well on his way to drunk. He looked around the crowd, glaring and swaying. "Can't even invite your old man to your birthday, kid?"

"I'm not a kid, Dad. And I wasn't in charge of the guest list." Sam replied in a low voice, frowning at his father.

"I was," Ellen cut in, "and if I thought you might be sober and behave yourself, John, I would have invited you. Seems I had the right idea to leave you out."

John's eyes traveled over the people gathered. "So you can't invite me, but you invite my sissy son and his boyfriend."

Sam and Castiel both moved at the same time to step in front of John as he strode toward Dean, but Sam made it first. He glared at John. "Dad, it's my birthday. Please."

"You invited him." John jabbed a finger at Castiel as he joined Sam. "Some fag stranger and not your own father!"

"My father? By biology maybe. But the ones who raised me? The ones I could honor by calling them a father figure? That would be Bobby and Dean. Not you," Sam ground out. John loomed toward Sam, almost threateningly.

Castiel laid a hand on Sam's arm, shaking his head before looking up at John. "You don't have to like me, Mr. Winchester, but you are being extremely disrespectful. This is Sam's birthday. the least you can do is not ruin his day."

"No one asked you, pillow biter," John growled at Castiel, but then his gaze slid over to Dean, who refused to meet his father's eyes. "Or is that you?" Dean flinched, and another growl tore from John's throat. "This is your fault! You poisoned my son!" he snarled, swinging wildly at Castiel. Sam shoved John back, lessening the force of the blow, but Castiel still tumbled to the floor, Dean staring slack-jawed and wide-eyed before his vision went red and he set his sights on John.

"You don't get to touch him!" Dean shouted, leaping at his father and landing a hard blow across his face. There was a satisfying crunch--John's nose, he realized, and thankfully not his fist--and John stumbled backwards, red streaming between his fingers as he clutched at his face. "Cas has never touched me! Not once! Not like that, not without my permission! So you don't get to touch him!"

Bobby and Rufus grabbed John under his arms and started to drag him away as he lunged for Dean. "You're gonna pick my Nancy boy son over me?" John screeched as the two tossed him out the door. 

Bobby shook his head. "We're protecting him, John, like you should have but never did." John gaped as they slammed the door in his face, and Ellen locked it behind them.

Dean turned on his heel as soon as John was gone to see Sam on the floor by Castiel.

"Cas!" Dean tripped to his knees, scrambling closer. "Cas, baby, please, please be okay," he panted, reaching up and cupping Castiel's chin with his hand. Castiel's eyes opened and he winced as Dean ran his thumb over a dark red bruise starting to bloom on his cheek under his eye already. "I'm sorry Cas, 'm so damn sorry." Dean's voice shook, a watery sound.

"You keep apologizing for things that aren't even your fault, sweetheart. I'm ok--mph!" Castiel was cut off as Dean pushed his fingers back into Castiel's unruly locks and dragged him forward to crush their mouths together until the crowd began hooting at them teasingly. Even then, Dean didn't go far, pressing his forehead to Castiel's.

"You kissed me," Castiel breathed in awe, looking up into green eyes.

Dean blushed bright red. "Y-yeah, I did."

"In front of everyone."

"Way to remind me that I need to go curl up and die from embarrassment now."

"But why?" Castiel asked, stroking a hand through Dean's hair.

"I was so scared you were hurt, baby, but you're okay. There was...there was nothing else I could do. I need you."

Castiel pulled back and grinned at him. "I need you, too, Dean Winchester."

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

The rest of Sam's party was a blur, and in the end, Dean and Castiel couldn't get out of there fast enough. Castiel made the executive decision they would stay at his place for the night and start packing his things in the morning. Once inside the house, Dean wasted no time shoving the blue-eyed man up against the wall and pressing a heated kiss to his mouth, his tongue darting out to trace Castiel's lower lip. Castiel moaned into the kiss, his mouth falling open, and Dean took the invitation, plundering his mouth with his tongue.

Castiel guided Dean to the bedroom, lips still locked, and they fell onto the mattress in a tangle of arms and legs. Dean could feel his pants growing tighter, but the hard line of Castiel's erection against his thigh jolted him back to reality. Not good enough, he wasn't good enough for Castiel... Dean pulled away with a whimper, rolling to face away from him and curling into a ball.

Castiel frowned at Dean's back, running his fingers gently through his hair. "I'm sorry, Dean. I didn't mean to push. We can stop."

Dean whined softly. "It's...it's not you, Cas. I'm not good enough for you."

"It's okay if you've never been with a guy before," Castiel tried to soothe him.

"It's not that. It's that it's....the first time I've ever wanted it. But I'm not good enough," Dean whispered hoarsely, refusing to look at him.

Castiel's heart stilled. "Is that what Sam meant?"

"About what?"

Castiel sighed. "He said you think he has no idea about everything you've done for him, including things that got you hurt."

Dean squeezed his eyes shut, breaths shortening to harsh gasps as panic rose in his gut. "I'm gonna kill him. Please, you can't say anything to Director Cain, or I'm finished. There's no way my career could take that kind of hit. I knew it was stupid of me to ever expect to be happy, to have it last, but please, just.."

"Dean, I'm not going to say anything to anyone--"

"I knew you were too good to be true, that once you found out, you wouldn't want me anymore."

"Dean, please. I can make that decision for myself. Anything you've done, I still want you, sweetheart. I still need you. But I also need you to talk to me. Tell me what I'm dealing with here."

Castiel slid closer, wrapping an arm around Dean's waist and pressing against his back.

Dean drew in a shaky breath. Castiel needed the truth. He deserved the truth. "After Mom died, Dad would drag me 'n Sam around with him on jobs sometimes, when Bobby couldn't take us. He'd give me $20, a gun, and a reminder: protect Sam. It started out as a few hours, but then it would turn into a day, two, five. Five days and $20 to feed two growing boys. And that's if we were in civilization and not camping in some backwoods hellhole." Dean let out a huff of air.

"Dean, that's illegal. Child neglect."

"I know that now, Cas. Back then, though, it was just...normal for us. Anyway, I got real good at knowing safe plants to eat and stuff, and I left packaged food and bottled water for Sam, only got sick a coupla times. When we were staying in a motel and I could still pull off young and cute, I could sometimes fool folks into thinking I forgot our lunches or lunch money."

"You're still cute."

"Haha, but not young." There was silence for a few beats. "I tried being honest. I did odd jobs, raked leaves, shoveled snow, mowed lawns. Sometimes I could convince diner owners my dad was having a hard time with money and they'd pay me to bus tables or wash dishes, under the table. I tried as much as possible to not beg for food or tip off anyone who might call CPS, 'cause they'd separate me 'n Sam, and I couldn't handle that."

Castiel's fingers ran through Dean's hair again. "You took care of Sam."

"Of course I did." Dean shrugged slightly.

Castiel felt a stab of disappointment in John, but he shoved it aside.

"Sam started growing like a weed. If there wasn't a lot of food, I'd go without so...I started hustling. Pool and poker mostly. Sometimes I'd steal food, from gas stations or whatever. I dropped out of high school at 16 to get a job, got my GED later, but I worked as a mechanic. Loved that job. If I ever leave the BAU, I'd want to go back to fixing cars. Sam and I were mostly living with Bobby by then, but he was such a smart kid. AP and IB classes, SAT and ACT tests, things were getting expensive and Dad wasn't giving me any money to raise his own kid by then. I pushed one last time and Dad snapped and told me to take custody of Sam if I cared so damn much. So I did just that. And then, he was accepted to Stanford." Dean bit his lower lip, willing the stinging in his eyes to go away. "He was so excited, Cas, his dream school. Dad wouldn't give him anything, no way. So I started picking up shifts at The Roadhouse. It still wasn't enough, even with Bobby being kind enough to give me free room and board. So I..." Dean paused, cleareing his throat.

"You what?" Castiel prompted softly.

"Just...minor stuff. Mostly for guys. Until one guy offered me $300. To...to..."

Castiel's fingers tightened in Dean's hair slightly. "You don't have to say it, Dean. I understand."

Dean nodded weakly and Castiel's hand resumed stroking.

"I couldn't say no. I was so desperate, Cas." Dean's voice cracked, and he felt tears begin to trickle down his face. "And I kept doing it because the money was good." He tried to scoot away from the other man, sure that Castiel was disgusted with him, but the arm around his waist tightened.

"Don't run from me, Dean."

Dean whimpered softly, and Castiel pressed a kiss to the back of his neck. "I'm so proud of you."

"For what?" Dean laughed harshly and pushed at Castiel's arm, the sound more like a broken sob.

"For telling me. For taking care of Sam even though it should have been your father's job. You're a good man, backed into a bad corner." Dean was silent, so Castiel changed the subject. "How did you end up at the BAU?" Dean was thankful for that.

"After Sam graduated, Bobby pushed me into it. Nice change of pace, I guess. I had the money then."

"You really love Sam."

Dean shifted in Castiel's embrace. "Yeah, but I told him and look what it got me. He left me. Everyone I love...they leave me."

Castiel pressed impossibly closer. "I won't. I won't leave."

"Everyone leaves me."

"Sam grew up, he had to strike out on his own. You're a good man, a good brother," Castiel answered firmly.

"I did what a brother is supposed to do."

"Lovely notion, Dean, but not every sibling is a good one. My oldest two brothers were less than accepting of my sexuality. I ended up living with my aunt and uncle, along with my brother Gabriel and my sisters, Anna and Hannah."

"Was this....after your brother was killed?" Dean asked carefully.

Castiel nodded against Dean. "He was gay, too. Gabe is bisexual, and Anna and Hannah disagreed with how my mother handled it. Alfie wanted to go with us, but he was the baby of the family. Mother wouldn't let him go. Luke and Michael....they agreed with Mother."

"What was your other brother's name?"

"James. We called him Jimmy." He pulled on Dean to try to get him to turn toward him.

Dean shook his head. "You shouldn't want me after this, Cas. I'm filthy, broken--"

Castiel pulled again and rolled Dean over in his arms. "--strong, resilient, beautiful. I want you more than ever, knowing how loyal and dedicated you are." Castiel pressed a light kiss to Dean's lips. "We all have ugliness in our pasts. Did you know in Japan, when a ceramic piece is broken, instead of throwing it away, they repair it by filling the cracks with gold? The damage gives it character and celebrates its story. Anyone who wants to throw you away is a fool."

He leaned in again, pressing a firmer kiss to Dean's mouth to emphasize his words. When Castiel pulled away, Dean followed his mouth, threading his fingers into Castiel's hair and tugging his mouth back down to meet in a clash of lips, teeth, and exploring tongues. When the need for oxygen became too pressing, Dean finally released him, his own head dropping to the pillow as he panted.

"This is why I was afraid to kiss you," Dean confessed softly.

"Afraid?" Castiel tilted his head, confused. God damn, that was cute.

"I've never let many people kiss me. Just...exes. Never any of the, y'know...too intimate. I was afraid of it meaning more, afraid of them wanting more." Dean's eyes flicked downward.

Castiel reached out, touching under Dean's chin with a finger. "Look at me, Dean."

Dean's eyes jerked up. "And now I can't get enough of you and I'm scared you'll realize I'm no good and you'll leave. After what I've done, it's not fair to you."

"I decide what's fair to me, Dean, and no one else. I told you I'll wait for you, but I want you, I need you."

Dean chewed on his lower lip. "Are you really willing to wait, though? Jo....she seems to think you'll get tired of waiting."

"I am only waiting because it seemed like a goal you wanted to reach eventually. Have you changed your mind?"

"I dunno, Cas. I just...maybe some stuff eventually, but I dunno if I'll ever be okay with...sex."

"Okay. Then if sex is off the table, that's fine. I won't expect you to do something you're not comfortable with, so I won't wait for that or push for it. I'll wait for what you are comfortable with. But I'm staying, Dean. I won't leave to find sex elsewhere. I don't need it to stay with you or to know what I feel about you."

Dean titled his head up, recapturing Castiel's lips in an unspoken thank you, mouths sliding together in slow, slick movements as they held each other close.


	11. Stay With Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas breaks his promise to Dean as things spiral wildly out of control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW times in this chapter. Alterations of canon events to suit my plot bunnies.
> 
> *LEOs: Law Enforcement Officers

When Dean blinked awake, it was dark, the location unfamiliar, disorienting. Twisting in Castiel's arms to reach for his phone, he bit back a gasp when the fabric of his boxers happened to brush against his rather...prominent morning wood.

He squinted, checking the clock to find it was close to 4:30 am, so he settled back down to see if he could doze. However, Castiel shifted, murmuring in his sleep, before his eyes slowly slid open to meet Dean's in the relative dark.

"Hello, Dean," he mumbled sleepily and tried to shift closer.

Dean's hand clamped down on Castiel's hips as he jerked back. "S-sorry Cas, I..."

Castiel's eyes flicked down and his cheeks tinged pink. "I apologize. I didn't realize that I..."

"N-no, me..." Dean whispered, embarrassed.

"Oh." Castiel met his eyes again. "It's okay, Dean. We don't have to do anything about it. It does go away eventually on its own."

Dean glared, flushing crimson. "I know that!" he snapped, instantly regretting his tone. "Sorry."

"I can leave if you're too uncomfortable with this, Dean."

Like hell, this was Castiel's bed, and he said as much.

"The offer still stands, Dean."

Dean snorted. "Or I could just leave. You have a perfectly good bathroom."

"That is an option as well."

Dean chewed on his lower lip until he tasted copper faintly, and then Castiel's hand reached up to brush against his mouth and free the fragile flesh from his teeth.

"Tell me what's on your mind, Dean."

"I said eventually for....touching...." Dean replied slowly, eyes staring at the wall beyond Castiel's head.

"I know."

"I'll never get there if I don't try."

"Dean--"

"I know," Dean cut him off quickly. "I don't have to. But I want to try. Just....please don't be offended if I can't?"

"I would never," the dark-haired man assured him softly. "I'm thrilled you're even willing to try, Dean."

Dean drew in a deep breath, then slowly slid his hand from Castiel's hip to where the front of his boxers were tented. Squeezing his eyes shut, Dean cautiously brushed his fingers against it. Yup, definitely a dick. A rock hard one. He heard Castiel's breath hitch, and he wrapped his fingers around the fabric-covered length, squeezing gently and eliciting a gasp from Castiel's lips.

"Dean," Castiel groaned low, his breath fanning over Dean's cheek. "That feels so good, sweetheart."

Feeling emboldened, Dean ducked his head to press hot, open-mouthed kisses to Castiel's throat before sucking a bruise into the skin above his collarbone. Castiel whined, his hips faintly jerking against Dean's palm before he forced himself still. Dean dipped his fingers under the waistband of Castiel's boxers, skimming over the trail of dark hair before his fingers met his blue-eyed companion's hard, hot length. Sweeping his thumb through the fluid pearled at the tip, he squeezed again, stroking upwards, and Castiel cried out, pushing his hips up into Dean's fist.

"Sorry, sorry!" he panted, tangling his fingers in Dean's hair and leaning forward to press an apologetic kiss to his forehead.

"It's okay, you can move," Dean assured him with another stroke, and Castiel moaned, thrusting upwards to meet it.

"Can I, can I kiss you?" he panted out.

Dean answered by tilting his chin up and nipping at Castiel's bottom lip before sealing their mouths together. Castiel groaned into his mouth and within a few jerky thrusts and uncoordinated strokes, he was spilling into Dean's hand, his hips giving lazy twitches as he came down from his high.

Dean withdrew his hand, wiping his fingers on a tissue and giving his bedmate a wipe-down, but his own hard-on was worse than ever, throbbing insistently.

Castiel pressed a kiss to Dean's forehead, smiling dazedly. "Thank you, Dean. That was wonderful."

Dean grunted in reply, rolling to his belly so his erection was pressed into the mattress instead of Castiel's hip.

"Are you....I mean, do you need me to help you, too?" Castiel asked, tentative.

Dean buried his face in the pillows, shaking his head.

Castiel grinned, stroking his hair. "I could orally fellate you, if you'd like. Are you free of disease?"

"What the hell!" Dean squeaked reproachfully, barely turning his head. "Geez, can't you offer to blow me if I'm clean, like most people?"

Castiel raised a brow. "Most people are offering you oral sex?"

"Cas!" Dean protested. "You know what I mean!"

"I think we have established that I am not like most people by now, Dean. Do you want me to or not?"

"Uh...." Dean replied intelligently.

"I can stop any time."

Dean slowly rolled onto his back, watching Castiel nervously, but he didn't move. After a few moments, Dean was beginning to feel a bit frustrated. "Well? What are you waiting for?"

"I'm not doing anything until you verbally consent, Dean. Anything but 'yes' is still a 'no' in my book."

Dean felt his anger and irritation fizzle out and his eyes softened as he gazed up at Castiel. _His Castiel._ He nodded faintly. "Okay, Cas. Yes."

Finally, Castiel reached for Dean, pulling him in for a soft kiss as his hand slipped under his shirt. Pressing his mouth to the column of Dean's throat, he slowly trailed down, shifting to hover over him. His wandering hand slid up further, skimming over a nipple, and Dean hissed in a breath as it tightened to a hard peak.

Castiel huffed out a laugh. "You're sensitive, that's good."

"Good?" Dean asked breathily as he squirmed.

"Yes, that means I can...." Castiel's hands pushed Dean's shirt the rest of the way up and off over his head as he pressed warm kisses to the slight pudge of his belly, mapping every inch of his skin. He paused, giving Dean a chance to protest, but when none came, he closed his mouth over a nipple. Dean keened, arching off the bed, and Castiel lavished attention on one before kissing his way across Dean's chest to the other. Dean hips shifted restlessly, and Castiel's hands moved their way back down to Dean's waist, his fingers tugging on the elastic band of Dean's boxers. Dean stiffened and abruptly jerked away with a whimper.

Castiel lifted his head away, brow knit with concern. "Dean?"

Dean bit down on his lower lip, looking down at Castiel, hesitance clouding his eyes. He trusted him, but... "Maybe just...pull them down a little?" Part of him still felt too cheap and trashy to let Castiel see that much of him, like it would somehow soil him to see a body so often paid for, used, and thrown aside.

Castiel nodded."Of course, Dean. Whatever you want." Castiel's hands returned to the waistband, tugging it down just enough for Dean's erection to spring free, every motion purposeful, gentle, and slow. Dean's eyes clamped shut, his teeth immediately back to worrying at his lower lip as he felt Castiel's breath against the leaking head of his member and hands firm on his hips. And then...

Nothing happened.

Dean made a confused noise and cracked one eye open to find Castiel just....watching him. Dean realized how tense he was and gradually forced himself to relax. "Cas?"

"Are you sure you want this, Dean? You don't have to, just to humor me."

Dean nodded, smiling crookedly down at Castiel and running his fingers lovingly through the bed-headed locks. One hand slid down to cup his cheek. "Yeah, Cas. I want this."

"Then keep your focus on me. No getting lost in your head, alright?"

Dean nodded again, green eyes locked on blue as Castiel slowly lowered his head, pink tongue peeking out to swirl over the blood-darkened head of Dean's cock. If not for the firm hand on his hips, Dean would have instantly jackknifed upright, and he let loose a strangled cry as Castiel drew the tip into his mouth, lightly sucking. "Cas!"

Castiel licked up the length before pressing a kiss to the base, but then he took the head of it back into his mouth and began to lower himself down, swallowing around Dean's hard length as he went. Dean shoved his fingers into the dark hair again, just holding, not pushing or pulling. "Fuck, Cas..." Dean moaned, voice husky as he watched his cock disappear down Castiel's throat. Dean felt it bump against what should have been a stopping point, but then there was the pressure of swallowing once more, and the next thing Dean knew, Castiel's nose was pressed into the wiry hair at the base of his dick. He stayed there for a few moments, just swallowing, breathing, and watching Dean, before he slowly began to bob his head up and down.

Dean whined softly. "'s been a while since...since....anyone...'m not gonna last, Cas..." His eyes slid half shut against the waves of pleasure shivering up his spine.

Castiel raised an eyebrow and shrugged as if to say "So?", backing off to tease the head and press his tongue into the slit.

Dean tried to shift and Castiel's grip on his hips tightened, keeping him still.

Then Castiel hollowed his cheeks and sucked, and Dean's eyes slammed shut. The wet heat disappeared just as suddenly, and Dean groaned at the loss of contact until Castiel began to stroke Dean's length with his hand in place of his mouth.

"Eyes on me, Dean. I need to know you're with me."

Dean obliged, prying his eyes open, and Castiel's mouth slid back over his cock. Dean reached down, touching the corner of his mouth where lips stretched around the girth, fingers trailing to the protruding outline of the head of his cock in Castiel's throat. Castiel hummed, pleased at the contact, and Dean gasped.

"F-fuck, Cas! 'm close, if you keep doing that, 'm gonna--'m gonna--" The hand in Castiel's hair tightened to try to pull him off, but he resisted, humming deeper as he moved his head, one hand sliding down to firmly press against Dean's perineum. At that pressure, Dean was lost, tipping over the edge with a scream as he flooded Castiel's mouth and came down his throat. Castiel, wonderful, amazing Castiel just swallowed it all, gazing up at Dean in adoration.

Dean panted, staring down at the blue-eyed man as he slid Dean's softened cock out of his mouth, suckling lightly on the head before drawing away and tugging Dean's boxers back into place. "Y' din't hafta do tha', Cas," Dean slurred in his post-orgasmic haze, but Castiel grinned.

"I wanted to, and you enjoyed it." He crawled back up next to Dean, flopping beside him and pulling Dean into his arms, pressing a kiss to his face. "Thank you, Dean."

"What?" That roused Dean some. He twisted to face Castiel, staring at him in confusion and struggling his way out of his dazed state. "You just gave me a mind-blowing orgasm. Shouldn't I be thanking you?"

Castiel chuckled lightly. "Perhaps, if you want to, but I meant thank you for trusting me. For letting me touch you and please you. It couldn't have been easy."

Dean sighed. "I trust you, Cas." His voice was small.

Castiel's face lit up. "I trust you, too. It--" Just then, the alarm on Dean's phone went off, and Castiel groaned. "Time to get up and start packing. I think I accidentally stole a pair of your sweats, so you can have them back. You want to shower first?" Just like that, his former train of thought was derailed.

Dean nodded, and he and Castiel showered quickly (and separately). Dean had found the sweatpants, but finding a clean shirt was another story, since the other man was slightly smaller than him.

"Check the back of my closet, I have some over-sized clothes I was going to donate but never got around to," Castiel called from the bathroom.

Dean rooted around, but in the very back, his fingers brushed against a texture that was definitely not clothing. "What the..." Dean pulled forward the other shirts, and in the very back of the closet, dangling from a hanger, was a rope knotted into a noose. "What the _**HELL**_!" Dean yelped, and Castiel rushed into the bedroom, shirtless and with wet hair.

"Dean! What happened? Are you hurt?"

Dean pointed at the noose. "Wh-what the hell is that??"

Castiel moved closer, peering into the closet, and paled at the sight. His legs wobbled and his knees gave out, but Dean was there in an instant, catching him before he hit the floor.

"Cas!"

"L-Lucifer...it's Lucifer..."

Dean looked back up at the noose, then at Castiel. "You're sure?"

"There's a-a note," Castiel said softly, distress coloring his words, and Dean returned to the closet. "Don't touch it, Dean!" Castiel hissed at him, and Dean glared briefly.

"I know! FBI, remember?" Dean replied, trying valiantly to keep from snapping at him while he was frightened. He leaned closer. At the very top of the aged paper, he began to read:

  

 

 

> Freedom is a length of rope.
> 
> So good to see you again, Cassie, I've missed you. It's nice to see you never learned from James' demise. Now I'll have to collect the other half of the set.
> 
> But if you come willingly, little brother, I have information on the Demon King the BAU might find useful. 
> 
> Go back to the start to find me.
> 
> -Lucifer

 

Dean turned to Castiel, who was pale and shuddering in a heap on the floor. "Little brother? Set? Cas, what the fuck is going on?"

Castiel looked up at him pleadingly with watery blue eyes. "Dean,  please..." He reached for Dean.

Instead of pulling away as Castiel feared he would, he rejoined Castiel on the floor. "I have to call Cain since this is a conflict of interest, but you need to talk to me, Cas. You didn't push me away when I told you some of the terrible things in my past, I won't push you away for this."

Castiel clung tightly to Dean, burying his face in Dean's neck. "Lu-Lucifer is my older brother, Luke. He's Michael's fraternal twin, but they are almost identical in fanatical ideology. Obviously, Lucifer is worse."

"Why didn't you tell me right away?" Dean's fingers found their way into Castiel's damp hair.

"Conflict of interest. I wanted to help without you losing this case, too."

Dean sighed. "Okay. And what did he mean by 'set'?"

"James was...my twin. In every way. We looked alike, acted alike, liked the same things, same taste in boys and everything. We both knew we were gay at a pretty early age, but we kept it our secret--until Lucifer caught James kissing a boy from school. Mother was furious, but she punished him as she always did. Five lashes with a belt and no meals for a week. Of course, my other siblings and I brought him food. But then...strange things started happening. Things would disappear, reappear, he was hearing and seeing things. And then Hannah..." Castiel choked as tears flooded his eyes. "One day, Hannah came home and found him dangling from the rafters. But I knew he hadn't committed suicide--I knew my twin as well as I knew myself. It was the medical examiner who proved it was murder."

"That's why you wanted to become an ME," Dean said aloud as the realization dawned on him. The fact that Dean hadn't made the connection between Lucifer and Castiel also made more sense now as he recalled only two other siblings being listed--Michael and some strange name that started with an "S".

Castiel nodded. "Luke was 16, but Mother hired a lawyer from the Metatron firm, some guy named Marv. He was tried as a juvenile for negligent homicide and was convicted. His record was expunged when he was released at 18."

Dean growled, holding Castiel tighter. "That's bullshit."

"I know."

Dean held him for a moment longer before pulling back. "I have to call Cain, will you be okay?"

Castiel nodded shakily.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Cain was furious with Castiel for hiding information and furious with Dean for not sharing earlier, which Dean defended with the fact that there had been no proof, no known location of or information on Lucifer Milton, and no existing court records.

After thorough questioning, Cain released them, but with a warning to Dean: "You can stay on the Lucifer case only if you can be professional about it."

Dean nodded and agreed. Unable to pack, he drove Castiel back into the city.

But if the situation seemed bad, things were about the get a hell of a lot worse, starting with Dean's front door hanging wide open.

"Fuck. Did Lucifer come here, too?" Dean swore.

"Cain seemed to think the noose had been there for a couple of days at least," Castiel replied, peering over Dean's shoulder, frowning and hovering behind him nervously.

"Wait here," Dean said over his shoulder, drawing his service weapon from his belt.

"What? No! Going in without backup was what almost got you killed! Remember??" Castiel protested. "Call Cain and _wait_!"

Dean grumbled but complied. If he thought Cain was furious before, well...

"Did you find something, Winchester?" Cain growled after Dean's quick explanation of the new circumstances.

"Nothing at the moment. I have no backup, and as I've been pointedly reminded, I nearly ended up dead the last time I went in without backup."

Cain sighed. "Fine. Benny is out your way. I'll be there as soon as I finish here."

Benny took twenty minutes in traffic, accompanied by local LEOs, and he and Dean made their way into the apartment to clear it. They didn't make it past the living room, where the Demon King symbol was spray-painted on the wall in red. Dean froze as Benny and the other officers fanned out, but the damage to the walls was everywhere. Cain arrived later to find police taking photographs, and Dean and Castiel pale and clinging tightly to one another as they stared at the scrawl on the walls.

 

 

 

> To the Killer of the Yellow-Eyed Demon,
> 
> The Angel will be mine. If I don't get your Angel, Squirrel is next. The killing will end with the Angel and the summoning of Hell."
> 
> -The Demon King

 

"I understand the rest, but who killed the Yellow-Eyed Demon?" Castiel finally said.

"Me," Dean muttered. "He means me."

Castiel turned to Dean, who hung his head and refused to meet Castiel's eyes. "You. So...you've killed a few people in the line of your work. That's not surprising."

"Just one. The Yellow-Eyed Demon. I've never killed anyone else."

"So who is he?"

"Azazel. The one who..."

"Killed your mother, I remember." Castiel's brow scrunched. "Wait. Did you kill him for revenge?"

Dean winced. "My mother wasn't the only woman he killed."

"That doesn't mean you can just--"

"He killed Sam's girlfriend, Jess. Same way. We thought it was strange because they didn't have kids, but we found out later...she was six weeks pregnant," Dean continued. Castiel was quiet this time. "Dad had finally tracked him down, with my help. I was still just a mechanic then, but I was driven for answers in my mother's death, so I didn't give up until we had the bastard. But then he had Dad in his sights, and I couldn't just...I shot him."

"You saved your dad," Castiel finally replied, and Dean nodded. Anger came over his face, and Dean flinched, pulling away. Castiel's arms tightened around him. "You saved him and he still--!" Castiel growled angrily. "If we get married, you are not inviting him!"

Den flushed red and spluttered, unable to spit out a coherent response. "M-married?"

Castiel gripped his waist. "As a theoretical thing. I didn't just propose, I swear."

"Uh." Eloquent as ever, Dean.

Castiel looked around, sighing in defeat before curling into Dean's chest. "We can't stay at my house, and we can't stay here, Dean. I have two killers who want me dead....what are we going to do?"

"We'll go to a safehouse. The FBI has several. It'll be okay, Cas. I'll protect you."

"I don't know if you can, Dean. I know Lucifer."

"And I know me. Trust me."

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

A quick trip to Walmart was necessary since neither of them had anything they could pack, and then Dean took them down winding roads deep into the backwoods and far from civilization. The cabin was small and crowded with just Castiel and Dean, worse when Benny arrived on protection detail, not that Dean complained. Benny volunteered to stay up for the night shift and made Dean and Castiel take the bedroom to sleep, but they were both restless and unable to doze off.

"Dean, if I give myself up to Lucifer, you'll at least get a lead on Crowley," Castiel finally hedged, after more than an hour of trying to settle down enough to fall asleep. They might as well talk about the issue at hand. His voice was slightly muffled against Dean's chest.

That made Dean sit up abruptly. "You are not giving yourself up to your psychotic brother! He could be lying for all you know!"

"You can't now how long it'll take to catch them otherwise, Dean! Lucifer won't kill me right away, knowing him. There'll be time to find me again."

"I can protect you!" Dean protested.

"Not every second of every day, until they're caught! And who would protect you?"

Dean choked. "No, Cas, no. You promised. You promised you wouldn't leave me!"

"It would be temporary. I have faith in you to save me."

"No, Cas. You can't. You can't sacrifice yourself." Dean dragged Castiel fully on top of him, crushing their mouths together, and he spread his legs to allow Castiel to settle between his clothed thighs.

Castiel shifted, pressing kisses across Dean's face.

"Please, Cas, I'll let you...you can...please just stay..." He spread his legs further in offering.

Castiel leaned up, kissing Dean sweetly on the mouth. "You don't have to offer me that to convince me to stay, Dean."

"It's okay, Cas. I don't...I don't mind, I swear." Dean shook slightly, betraying his fear.

"I do mind, and Benny is in the next room, so I'm sure he'll mind. But we can still kiss as long as we're quiet."

Hope sparked in Dean, Castiel could see it in his eyes, and Castiel felt his heart crack in two. Before Dean could have a chance to catch sight of the pain in Castiel's eyes, he leaned up and recaptured the green-eyed man's mouth, trading lazy kisses and exploring with his tongue in heated, wet strokes. What surprised him, though, was when Dean began to gently rock his hips up to meet Castiel's, and Castiel moaned into his mouth, Dean eagerly swallowing the noise down. The dark-haired man ground down on the next motion, rolling his own hips to meet each of Dean's thrusts, their clothed erections roughly rubbing together. At first, the movements were slow and gentle, only meant to foster the low, gentle thrum of arousal burning in their bellies, tasting each other's moans and groans. But then Dean hitched his legs up around the other man's hips and pushed up hard with a strangled noise.

Castiel bit the tendon of his neck in punishment. "Quiet, Dean!" he hissed, admonishing him, but Dean grabbed his hair and pulled.

"Then go harder, Cas! I need...I need..." Dean panted. "Please, Cas!"

Castiel finally obliged, hiking Dean's legs up higher and grinding against him harder, faster. Dean whined and writhed beneath him at the change in angle, breathing hard. It wasn't long before Dean stiffened under him and gave a barely muffled cry, jerking spasmodically against Castiel's body. It was enough to tip Castiel over the edge, and with a low groan, he followed Dean into oblivion.

When he finally came back to himself, Dean was limp under him, legs splayed wide. Castiel climbed off, wrestling off Dean's soiled boxers, Dean too fucked out to lodge a protest. He grabbed a washcloth and dampened it under running water in the bathroom sink, cleaning Dean up before tugging a clean pair of boxers back up Dean's-- _his Dean's_ \--legs. Dean was out cold before Castiel could finish cleaning himself, so he slipped out into the other room to find Benny regarding him with a smirk. 

"Thought you two weren't having sex," he chuckled.

Castiel shook his head. "That wasn't sex. That was pretending we were a couple of horny teenagers. Clothing didn't even make it off."

Benny snorted. "That....really doesn't sound like Dean. I mean the horny part does, but I'm surprised you two aren't at it like rabbits."

Castiel rolled his eyes. "Charming." 

"How's Dean?" Benny asked, glancing toward the bedroom when Dean didn't follow him out.

"Asleep."

"Not you, though?" Benny sounded concerned.

"Too anxious to sleep with not one but two serial killers 'gunning for me.'" He even used air quotes, much to Benny's amusement.

Benny smiled. "We'll keep you safe, doc. I've never seen Dean as happy as he is with you. He needs it. Deserves it."

"Sam said that, too."

"Well, he's right."

Castiel hid his sad smile, turning away. "I'm going to make coffee. Would you like some?"

"Please, Doc."

Castiel brewed the coffee and poured a cup. "Sugar?"

"Two, and two creamers."

Castiel breathed out a sigh of relief. The sugar would mask the taste...

He slipped two tablets from a bottle labeled trazadone--it would put Benny under hard and make him difficult to rouse--and he ground the tablets up roughly, stirring them in before handing the mug to Benny, who took it with a quiet 'thanks'.

Benny took a sip, not even noticing his coffee had been doctored, and within twenty minutes, he was asleep. 

Castiel slipped into the bedroom and tugged on a pair of Dean's jeans, socks, and his own shoes. Then he raided the desk in the room for paper and a pen, scribbling a hasty note; last, he slipped the keys from Benny's pocket--he didn't have the heart to steal Baby and Benny's car had a certain benefit--and made his escape into the dark night, winding along the roads until he was on his way back to the start.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Dean awoke with a start, jerked from his sleep by a nightmare--strange because he hadn't had once since Castiel started sleeping in the same bed every night. Dean reached out for him only to find cold sheets. He sat up, switching on the light. "Wha-Cas?" The other side of the bed was empty, and laying on Castiel's pillow was a piece of folded paper. Dean snatched it up.

 

 

 

> My Dearest Dean,
> 
> I'm sorry I had to do this, sweetheart, but you need answers and I have faith in you to find me.
> 
> I won't give up hope that you'll come for me. I need you, Dean, ever and always.
> 
> Goodbye,
> 
> Castiel

 

"No. No no no. Cas, no! You promised! _You promised!_ " Dean screamed to the empty room, scrambling to his feet and darting into the main room. "Benny! **_BENNY!_** " He grabbed the sleeping Cajun, shaking him awake. "Where's Cas?"

"Whaddya mean? Ain't he with you?" Benny slurred.

"Cas isn't here! What happened?"

"He made coffee and then...nothin' brotha. I fell asleep, I guess."

Dean crossed the room to the coffee machine, grabbing the pill bottle left on the counter. "Shit. He dosed you on sleeping meds." Then Dean's eyes widened and he ran to the door, throwing it open. "He took your car."

Benny stumbled up behind him. "Damn."

"No, that's a good thing. We can track it!" Dean grabbed him, clapping his shoulders. "Call Cain and grab your shit."

If Cain had been pissed before, now he was positively livid, seething at Dean as he and Benny took off after Castiel and the car.

"Dean, I'm sorry, for what it's worth," Benny finally offered.

Dean grimaced. "'s not your fault, Benny. He...he promised he wouldn't go. He lied. To both of us." He handed Benny the note.

"Any idea where he's going?"

"No idea. Lucifer told him to go back to the start."

"What does that mean?"

"Not a clue, Benny. He told Cain he didn't know."

"But you don't think that?" Benny asked.

"Not for a second."


	12. On the Hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Information is slow to come by, and the days drag on while Castiel is missing.

_**DAY ONE** _

 

Even with the GPS tracker on the vehicle, Castiel had been smart, switching plates any time he stopped. Once, sirens went off a few cars behind him, his heart leaping into his throat, but he was passed for a broken tail light. His relief was palpable.

Hours after leaving Dean, the man he loved (since he was being honest), behind, he finally reached what Lucifer had called the start, and a dark sedan, an average vehicle that blended in with everyone else, pulled up. It parked; so did Castiel, and they both climbed out. For the first time in years, Castiel looked into the eyes of his brother.

"Lucifer."

"I'm hurt, Cassie. You can't even call me Luke?"

Castiel narrowed his eyes. "The name of the devil is more fitting, brother."

"As is yours, always alone and weeping, Cassie. That doesn't change my affection for you."

"Affection? Is this affection that drew me from the arms of my beloved?" There was no point in denying Dean.

Lucifer grinned, a twisted grimace that bared teeth and lent a bit more credit to his lack of sanity.

"Were your lover not a man, Cassie. You shall not lie with a male as with a woman; it is an abomination. If a man lies with a male as with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination; they shall surely be put to death; their blood is upon them."

Castiel grit his teeth. "But you punish me alone, brother," he replied, somehow calmly, levelly.

"I did my research on your lover. One transgression in his youth--but he saw the light and was saved. You tempted a righteous man to sin. The other tempter was duly punished. It's your turn," Lucifer rumbled.

"So you'll kill me?"

"In time." He reached for Castiel's arm, but Castiel pulled out of his reach.

"I came willingly, in return for information on Crowley for Dean."

Lucifer's smile was predatory. "You did, didn't you? Alright then. Text him."

"What?" Castiel was surprised. His phone had been off the whole time, no desire to see missed calls and texts from Dean.

"Text him. I'll dictate the message."

Castiel reluctantly turned his phone on, his eyes flooding with tears as the phone alerted him to dozens of texts.

 

**DW: You promised you wouldn't go!**

**DW: How could you lie to me?**

**DW: Cas, please come back!**

**DW: Baby please!**

**DW: Come back. I'll say it. I'll say the l word.**

**DW: I'll call you my boyfriend. I'll call it dating.**

**DW: Please rethink this, Cas, please!**

**DW: Please don't leave me!**

**DW: I can't do this without you!**

**DW: I need you....**

 

His cracked heart shattered.

"Alright, what's the message?" Castiel's voice shook violently.

"Subpoena Zachariah Adler's incoming and outgoing phone calls the nights of all of the murders and abductions."

Castiel's head jerked up. "Are you saying that Adler was involved?"

"Show me the text. Nothing extra or funny, or else, Cassie."

He held the phone up and Lucifer nodded, so Castiel pressed send. Then he moved his finger to turn the phone off again.

"No, leave it on," Lucifer instructed. "Leave it in the car and the keys under the floor mat."

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Dean's phone chimed, the display sporting Charlie's name, and he jammed the answer button on his blue tooth speaker. "Talk to me, Red."

"The car stopped again. His cell phone also turned on."

"Where?"

"Suburb about an hour and a half outside of Chicago. Pontiac."

"Hang on, got a text. Benny, can you read it?"

Benny grabbed the phone and opened the new text, reading it out loud.

"Zachariah Adler?" Charlie asked. "Victor said that Cas used to work under the guy at Leavenworth before he moved to Lawrence. The guy's a parole officer now. Crowley's. Does Cas think there's a connection?"

"It's from Cas' phone, but I think the text is courtesy of Lucifer. He said he'd trade information on Crowley for Cas," Dean replied.

"And you let him go?" Charlie shrieked.

Dean winced. "I didn't let him do anything! He drugged Benny and sneaked out while I was asleep! Stop stalling and get Victor on the subpoena now, Charlie."

"Right. Sending you the address now on the phone and car. You want me to alert local LEOs there too?"

"Yes, Red. You're the best!"

"You owe me a liquor store, handmaiden."

Benny raised a brow, but Dean said nothing.

Castiel had several hours on them, so Dean sped as much as he dared to. It was his personal vehicle, but Benny called through to area dispatchers to alert them to avoid getting pulled over or slowed down.

Still, by the time they arrived, police had been there for a while, Benny's car taped off as a crime scene.

"Howdy," a slightly greasy guy greeted them as they pulled up. Dean felt an instant dislike, despite the friendly accent that reminded him of Donna. "You can call me Sheriff Doug. You the FBI?"

"BAU, SSA Winchester, SSA Lafitte."

"Nice ta mee'cha."

"So what have you found?" Dean pressed. "This is time-sensitive, Sheriff."

"Right, sorry. Just the car and the cell phone. Prints came back to Lafitte and the victim for the car, just the victim on the phone."

"Did you speak with the residents?" Benny asked.

"A few. No one saw anything."

Dean peered up at the house in front of which the car was parked, watching carefully. Movement of a curtain in a window alerted him that someone was home. "What about this house? Who owns it?" Dean asked.

"Naomi Milton. She inherited it from her late husband. No one answered the door," Doug replied.

"There's definitely someone home. I saw movement," Dean said.

"Huh, well..."

"Dean and I'll go," Benny cut in, dragging Dean after him.

They knocked on the door but received no answer.

"Mrs. Milton, this is the FBI. We know you're home. We just have a few questions," Dean called.

The door finally swung open to reveal a severe-looking older woman, dark hair streaked with gray and pulled back into a tight bun.

"Naomi Milton?" Benny asked.

"I am she. May I help you?"

"Did you witness anything unusual outside this morning?" Benny continued.

"Of course not. I've been inside all day," she replied.

"And yet you failed to answer the door when the police came earlier," Dean said.

"I must have been asleep. Is that all, agents?" She moved to close the door.

Dean wedged his foot in. "Not quite, Mrs. Milton. Do you know a Lucifer Milton?"

"I have a son by that name."

"Mother," an unfamiliar voice spoke up behind her, and Dean's eyes landed on a sandy-haired man, somewhat older than himself. "Don't say another word without a lawyer."

"My son, Michael. Michael, dear, there is no harm in saying Lucifer is my son. He is."

"When was the last time you saw him?" Dean asked.

"Years ago. Only myself and my other two sons are here."

"What about Castiel Novak?" Dean pushed.

Naomi's pupils dilated and she tensed. "I don't know anyone by that name."

A lie. Dean and Benny both saw it immediately.

"Of course, Mrs. Milton. If Lucifer contacts you, please let us know," Benny said politely, extending a card.

The door slammed shut in their faces, and Dean grimaced. Benny tucked the card into the door jamb.

"She was lying." Dean's voice held a hint of anger.

"Ain't no way she'll tell us, neither. Think we should survey the house?" Benny drawled.

Sheriff Doug came striding up in time to overhear the last part. "I'm afraid our hands are tied, gentlemen. Mr. Milton contacted Senator Roman, who contacted the chief of police, James Frampton. He told us to stop harassing the Miltons."

"What exactly did he say?" Dean asked.

"The, uh, police?" Sheriff Doug offered.

"I see. The police," Benny replied, and he and Dean grinned.

"What's so funny?" Doug asked.

"The police have to stop," Benny said.

"So the police will stop," Dean chuckled low.

Sheriff Doug's expression was still one of confusion, but neither agent let him in on the apparent joke.

When the police cleared out and the BAU office in Chicago had taken the car for analysis, Benny and Dean set up quietly a ways down the street to watch the house, texting Charlie the news. But with only the two of them, staying awake became a challenge as the day wore on.

"Sleep, brotha. You drove the whole way here, I at least caught a nap. I can handle this," Benny assured. 

Dean climbed into the back seat and dozed for a while, waking when his phone rang, Charlie's name flashing across the screen. "Talk to me, Charlie, you're on speaker."

"Thanks to that little hint, we went back and checked on Adler's calls. The days of the murders and abductions, Adler had several incoming calls from the same burner phone. The night of your abduction, however..."

Dean sat up abruptly. "Yeah, what about it?"

"There was an outgoing call to that number, right after Adler was contacted. Victor found that phone in the barn after Crowley escaped."

"Damn. So no way to track him?" Benny growled.

"Even burner phones can be tracked. Just in case someone gets lost, the location of a call can be pinged," Charlie replied.

"But we can't just arrest Adler and demand he call Crowley so we can track him," Dean said.

"Victor said that," Charlie sighed. "So what do you suggest?"

Dean sat still, slightly stunned. "It's Victor's case, Red. I'm too close, remember?"

"Yeah, Victor remembers, too. But this bastard tried to kill you, threatened your boyfriend."

"He's not--!" Dean sighed. "Okay, fine, he is my boyfriend."

Benny's head jerked up and Charlie squeaked.

"What?" Dean growled. "Don't make a big deal out of this."

"Of course not," Charlie replied, her voice pitched higher with glee.

Benny was grinning and Dean swore he heard the Cajun murmur, "Good for you."

He glared at his partner before he finally turned back to the issue at hand.

"We can't arrest Adler. But we need to monitor his phone calls."

"He won't allow it and we risk his getting tipped off if we ask the parole office," Benny cut in.

"Ask the Director to pull a few strings to wire up his office. Next time Crowley calls, be prepared to pounce," Dean instructed.

"Right-o, Chief. Signing off, dude, have fun on your illicit stakeout."

"Uh-huh."

 

**_DAY TWO_ **

 

"Chief?" Benny spoke up. "We got movement. Looks like a kid."

Dean peered in the direction Benny pointed, a scrawny teenager making his way down the street away from them.

"Think we should follow?" Benny asked.

Dean shook his head. "We only have the two of us, man, we'd have to split up and I don't like th--" Dean froze, eyes locking on the rear view mirror. "Shit, he's coming up from behind."

To Dean's surprise (and wariness), the kid dropped low, sneaking to the side of the car away from the large house and knocking on the door. He backed up a little where he was crouched and held his hands up in surrender. 

Dean could almost see--he shook his head, reaching for the door handle.

"Careful, Dean, you don't know--!" Benny barked, but he went silent at the look Dean gave him.

Dean opened the door, leaning out with a gun pointed at the teen, whose eyes widened. His breathing hitched, but somehow he remained still. "Who are you?" Dean demanded.

"S-Samandriel. Everyone calls me Alfie. I overheard you guys talking about my brother, Castiel. Please, I want to help."

Samandriel. That was the other name listed as Lucifer's kin. And Alfie was the name of a sibling Castiel had once mentioned. Dean scooted back. "Get in."

Samandriel--Alfie climbed in, and Dean patted him down briefly, as a matter of course. The kid was clean, no shock there.

"Cas said you wanted to move in with your aunt and uncle and some of your other siblings but your mother wouldn't let you," Dean said, and Alfie looked up, startled.

"Cas told you about Uncle Chuck?"

Dean nodded. "Cas is--" he took a deep breath and plunged in headlong. "Cas is my boyfriend. We're honest with each other."

Dean hadn't thought Alfie's eyes could get any wider, but somehow he managed.

"You love him?" Alfie asked.

Dean blushed but nodded faintly. "I, uh, yeah. Need to tell him still, though."

Benny was grinning and tapping away on his phone.

"If you're texting Charlie that, I swear, Benny, I will decapitate you," Dean growled.

Benny just laughed.

Alfie broke out into a smile. "I'm glad. He needs it." But then he paled. "But that...that explains..."

"Explains what?" Benny asked. 

Dean reached out slowly, and Alfie flinched slightly before allowing Dean to grip his shoulder. "Mother lied. She saw Lucifer a week ago, he said he was concerned about Castiel. She asked him to help Cas." Alfie flinched again when he saw Dean's thunderous expression. Dean pressed his lips together tightly, taking a steadying breath.

"Do you know where Lucifer is right now?" Dean asked, his voice slightly gruff, despite his effort to aim for gentle.

Alfie shook his head. "He's n-not using the name Lucifer Milton. Gabriel might know, or if not him, Anna or Hannah. I--I don't know how to reach them, though. I'm not allowed to speak to them." Alfie hunched over. "I shouldn't even be here right now."

"You love Cas. You want to help him," Dean assured, "and you know what your mother is doing is wrong. What Lucifer is doing is wrong."

Alfie nodded. "I should go before they miss me."

Dean reached for his wallet and pulled out a card. "If you think of anything else, please don't hesitate to call me."

Alfie glanced down at it, pushing it back towards Dean. "I have the one you left in the door. I didn't want Mother to find it." He looked back up at Dean with pleading eyes. "Please save him, Agent Winchester. No one saved Jimmy."

Dean bit his lip for a moment. "Yeah, kid, I know. I'll do everything in my power."

When Alfie had sneaked back out again, Dean called Charlie back immediately.

"Good news or bad news, Dean?" she asked as she picked up his call.

"Good, I hope. The kid brother came to talk to us. Said mom just saw Lucifer. We haven't had any luck tracking down family thus far, but can you get into Castiel's contacts?"

"Was Han Solo frozen in carbonite?"

"You're the best, nerd."

"That's geek to you. What am I looking for?"

"Gabriel, Anna or Anael, Hannah? Have we gotten a number for Chuck Shurley, either?"

"No, but I can check."

Dean heard the clicking of rapid-fire fingers on keys.

"Hm. You know the pass code by any chance?" Charlie asked.

"0918. For security?"

"Yep. Is it significant?"

"Birthday."

"Ah, he should change that, too easy to guess." There were a few beats of silence, and then, "We have a Gabriel in the contacts, and I found a Charles Shurley in the Chicago area," Charlie finally said, and Dean's phone pinged a moment later.

"Thanks, Char. I'll call back if I get more info," Dean replied.

"I await your call with baited breath." He could hear her grinning over the line in the tone of her voice.

 

_**DAY THREE** _

 

The next day, Dean finally got through to one of Castiel's family members. The line rang, and a slightly shaky male voice answered, "Hello?"

"I'm looking for a Mr. Charles Shurley."

"This is he; how may I help you?"

"My name is Dean Winchester. I work for the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI. Do you have nephews named Lucifer Milton and Castiel Novak?"

"I do. Is everything okay?"

"When was the last time you spoke to them?" Dean charged onward.

"I have not spoken to Lucifer since my nieces and two of my nephews came to live with me and their aunt. I speak to Castiel a few times a year. The last time was New Year's. Why?"

"Both of them are missing. Presumably together," Dean replied gently. "Do you know how to get in touch with Lucifer?"

"No." Panic was edging into Mr. Shurley's voice. "But I have Castiel's cell phone number around somewhere."

"We already have it, Mr. Shurley."

"Please call me Chuck," he replied, voice quivering. "Was Castiel seeing someone?"

"Yes, he was. I'm sorry, it's my fault," Dean replied softly, and he heard Chuck make a noise of surprise.

"You? Why?"

"Your nephew...was seeing me. And now thanks to Dick Roman, it's become even harder for us to investigate," Dean confessed.

"No," Chuck's voice was suddenly firm and steady. "It's not your fault. Lucifer is responsible for himself. And you're going to save Castiel."

"Even if it costs me my job," Dean assured

Benny's head jerked up to gape at Dean silently.

"Chuck, we have a contact number for Gabriel, but not for Anna or Hannah. Do you by any chance have those?"

Chuck hummed faintly. "The whole family has been pretty private since Jimmy was killed. Can I contact them and give them your number?"

Dean drew in a slow breath. "Yes, please. If they have any information at all, it might help."

"Thank you for letting me know. I'm counting on you to save Castiel."

Dean hung up, but Benny's hand shot over the seat, grabbing Dean's arm. Dean hissed. "What?"

Benny pointed at a dark sedan leaving the driveway, the driver obscured. Dean jerked his phone up  to snap a string of photos. "You catch a plate?" he asked Benny.

Benny grunted in confirmation, and Dean sent off the pictures with the plate number to Charlie.

She replied shortly after with registration information--Michael Milton. She promise to work on identifying the driver.

 

_**DAY FOUR** _

 

The sun was setting and Dean sent Benny to pick up food while he kept watch on the house While Benny was away, he made another attempt to contact Gabriel, who picked up right away, to Dean's surprise.

"Dean Winchester?" a male voice asked, and Dean started slightly.

"Uh, yeah. How..?"

"Uncle Chuck called me. I was about to call you myself. So you're Cassie's boyfriend?"

"Uh, ye--" Dean's voice cracked. "--yeah. Gabriel...Novak? Milton?"

"Milton. Cassie is my half-brother."

"So, Mr. Milton--"

"Gabriel or Gabe, please. Mr. Milton is my father. Or God forbid, Michael or Lucifer."

"Gabriel, when was the last time you spoke to any of your family?"

"I stay away from Mother dearest and my older brothers. Last time I saw Lucifer, he tried to stab me with a letter opener. Uncle Chuck and I talk around the holidays. I try to see Alfie when I can, Anna and Hannah I speak to once a month, but Cassie and I chat often." Gabriel chuckled. "You must be the guy he told me about when we last spoke. Said he saved some guy's ass and was falling for him."

"Yeah, that's me," Dean huffed. "Your uncle said the family is private, which is no joke. We have almost no information on any of them, which makes tracking Lucifer down hard."

"That's not the only 'hard' thing you're dealing with, I hope?" Dean could practically hear Gabriel waggling his eyebrows.

"Gabriel, focus."

"Sorry. Have you tried his aliases?"

"We tried Nicholas Morningstar. Nothing."

"Try Lucifer Novak, or Lucifer Shurley. Or Nicholas with those."

Dean texted this off to Charlie. "Alright, Gabriel. thanks for your help."

"Good luck, Dean-o. I'm expecting an invitation to your wedding."

Dean had made the mistake of taking a sip from his water bottle at that moment, and he choked and sputtered, Gabriel laughing as he hung up.

 

_**DAY FIVE** _

 

**SW: Charlie texted me everything. You okay? Want me to come out there?**

**DW: I'm fine. Charlie needs to mind her own business.**

**SW: I'm allowed to worry about my brother and future brother-in-law.**

**DW: I hate you all. None of you are invited to the god damn non-existent wedding.**

**SW: Aw, I love you, too, jerk.**

**DW: Shut up, bitch. I'll call you if I need you.**

 

 

His phone rang, and he picked it up, unthinking. "You didn't have to call, Sam."

"Sam?" a confused female voice inquired.

Dean flushed _._ "My apologies, ma'am. My phone has been lighting up all day with calls and texts. This is SSA Dean Winchester, can I help you?"

"My name is Anna Milton. I have my sister, Hannah Novak, with me," the woman, Anna, said. 

A different female voice, Hannah, spoke up. "Our uncle contacted us about Castiel. He said you were also asking about Luke."

"Yes, I am. Can you help?"

"We can," Anna said.

"Gabriel and Castiel left because of their sexualities, but Anna and I left out of anger. Lucifer will sometimes contact us randomly throughout the year to try to convince us to return. Same number every time," Hannah said.

Dean's heart leaped into his throat. "Can I have it?"

Benny returned to the car just then from another food run, and Dean frantically waved a hand. Benny stared like Dean had lost his mind, but then Dean snatched Benny's phone out of his hand, opening a text to himself and Charlie, punching in the number and sending it with a message to track the number. "Okay," Dean said into his cell phone, "Got it, thank you ladies. And I promise I'm doing everything in my power to get him back."

"Lead?" Benny asked when Dean hung up.

"Yeah." Dean was grinning. "A phone number, Benny. We got a phone number for Charlie to look up."

Benny grinned back, tossing a bag at Dean. "That's awesome. Any news from Victor?"

Dean shook his head.

 

_**DAY SIX** _

 

 

When Victor finally called, it was with mixed news.

"After he lost the old phone, Crowley did buy a new one, we think. There's at least a new number on incoming and outgoing calls that's a burner.But the GPS has been blocked," Victor said.

Dean chewed on his lip and hummed. "Is Charlie tracking his current calls?"

"Yeah, of course. But on his last day to call in, he used a phone at a restaurant."

"Damn." Dean thought hard. "It's risky, but we can tell Adler that we're closing in on Crowley and ask him to contact us if he hears from Crowley."

"Crowley will bolt."

"You know where Crowley is, though. He's around Leavenworth; he has to be or he's violating parole, and he knows it. He always makes a point to choose a business in the area to call from. If Adler warns him, he has to use Crowley's burner phone. So mobilize local authorities. Use the cell towers--even without GPS you can still ping a call from the towers. As soon as you triangulate the call, get the cops to halt travel in the area and close in like a net."

"You're right," Victor said, "it's very risky. But it's the only option we have."

"Go for it."

"How's your case?" Victor asked gently.

It made Dean bristle slightly, but he tried valiantly to soothe his ruffled feathers before replying. "Same problem, burner phone. But it's off. We're watching the house and talked to the uncle and several of the siblings." 

"Ooh, the future in-laws. Good luck, man."

"I hate you all. I'm serious."

 

_**DAY SEVEN** _

 

Charlie finally called back with news. "We got a hit on Nicholas Novak. Fraudulent credit card, security footage at a Gas 'n Sip shows him entering and exiting the store. Pontiac location. Also a Biggerson's."

"So he's in the area," Dean said.

"I can do you one better," Charlie replied. "He was in Michael Milton's car. The facial analysis finally came through."

"Shit, we let him get away," Dean growled, and Benny looked up at him.

"Deep breaths, brotha. We couldn't 'a stopped 'im for no reason. We didn't see anyone else in the car," Benny reasoned, and Dean sighed, slumping.

"I know, I just...fuck. I would feel bad even if Cas was just a stranger, Benny."

 

_**DAY EIGHT** _

 

"It worked," Victor crowed over the line the moment Dean picked up. "We snagged him in Adler's shed and then nabbed Adler. We got 'em both!"

"Congrats, man," Dean murmured tiredly, eyes locked on the house deep into the night, though sleep dragged at him.

Even with Charlie tracking transactions on the credit card and Bobby arriving with Rufus to help with tailing cars and occasionally trading watch duty, they still hadn't sighted Lucifer since that first time.

 

_**DAY NINE** _

 

Cops came knocking on the car window--specifically Sheriff Doug. "We've been getting complaints from the neighbors and threats from Dick Roman. You can't keep surveying the house."

"No law against loitering here, officer," Dean said, but Bobby and Rufus rented a nondescript car and swapped out for an evening watch.

 

_**DAY TEN** _

 

Dean jerked awake in a crappy hotel bed to his cell phone going crazy at 5:30 in the morning. 

"Hello?" he mumbled sleepily.

Bobby's voice barked out at him, "We got movement. Lucifer's cell phone switched on and Charlie is getting a lock. We think Lucifer might be in the driver's seat. What do you want us to do?"

"Keep Rufus on foot, to keep watch on the house. You tail them,  Benny and I will meet up with you and trade off tailing. We're taking two cars to swap tails, so when we catch up to you, peel back to meet up with Rufus again."

"Alright, heading north on Fifth now."

He and Benny rushed to get ready and Benny conferenced in, taking the other car. They followed his changing directions until they caught sight of the sedan in question. The driver was hunched low, wearing a hat, but after Charlie had also conferenced in, she confirmed the cell phone was definitely inside the car. _Lucifer_ was in the car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week you will get to see a bit of what's going on from Castiel's POV.
> 
> I am aware that some of their methods have questionable legality.


	13. Repentance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will Castiel possibly repent for his sin? Or will he be saved?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a wee bit on the short side because one "chapter" ended up so long it had to be roughly divided into four parts.
> 
> This is a bit spoiler-y if you haven't seen the season finale of season 11.
> 
> Castiel's POV
> 
> I should note that prisoners kept in solitary often have difficulty determining the amount of time that has passed. A couple of days can easily feel like a week, a week or so can feel like a month. As little as a few days in solitary can have a damaging impact on someone's mental health, as well, hurting a potentially already fragile mind.

_**DAY ONE** _

 

Castiel obediently followed Lucifer into he house, surprised to find his mother and Michael standing in the living room, waiting.

"Mother, Michael," Castiel greeted cautiously, eyeing them warily.

"Castiel," Naomi spoke, "do you repent of your sinful ways?"

Castiel glared. "There is nothing wrong with me. I am successful and happy."

"But your soul is lost, brother," Michael said softly, imploringly. Michael cared, in his own twisted way, but Castiel couldn't bring himself to appreciate it when he showed his concern in such a manner.

Castiel turned to bare his teeth at Michael. "Love is no crime. My love for one man cannot be a worse crime than Mother's divorces. How shocking a crime is that under God's law, after all?"

Three pairs of eyes narrowed at him. "You try to distract from your own crimes, Cassie," Lucifer replied, low and dangerous. But in an abrupt change, he offered Castiel a porcelain cup. "Tea?"

"You needn't be so covert about drugging me, Lucifer." Castiel was no fool, but Naomi started slightly. "I did the same to my protection detail only hours ago, to keep them incapacitated for a sufficient amount of time." He reached for the cup, draining it in a few, unsweetened swallows, grimacing. He felt his body go loose, vision darkening at the edges, and the cup fell out of his hand, shattering on the floor as he collapsed.

 

_**DAY TWO** _

 

Castiel shifted cautiously, the world cave-dark around him. His mouth tasted stale and the mattress he laid on was lumpy and reeked. He reached out careful hands, finding the bars of a cage to his left, hard concrete floor beneath. The basement door swung open, a rectangle of light shining above him, and he winced. Lucifer descended into the darkness, and Castiel raised one hand to smear at his face tiredly, finding himself chained when he was met with resistance.

"Do you repent?"

Castiel glared up at the shadows of Lucifer beyond the bars of the cage, silent in his anger, and Lucifer set down a tray of bread and water, lighting a tiny stub of a candle before sliding it within Castiel's reach. When Castiel provided no verbal answer, Lucifer left him in the quiet. Castiel ate and drank while the light lasted, knowing the food would be drugged, and welcomed the blissful nothingness of sleep. At least then he didn't have to face this Hell alone in the dark.

 

_**DAY THREE** _

 

Castiel rolled to the right, smacking his face into the bars with a low, reverberating groan that bounced off the walls of the basement prison. He stared up into the darkness, trying to will away the throbbing pain in his nose. A hand thrust outward banged into the bars as well, indicating a change in his position, but he was fairly certain he was not the one responsible for the alteration.

When Lucifer came down with food, he stared at the blood dried under Castiel's nose for a few moments, although Castiel could not tell for certain if his brother enjoyed the sight or not. "Do you repent, Castiel?"

Castiel met him with silence. When Lucifer left, he ate, drank, and slept, no other choice.

 

_**DAY FOUR** _

 

Castiel pushed his hands out, finding nothing nearby today. Moved again, it seemed. Lucifer did not want him gaining his bearings in the dark, as if there was time with a tiny stub of a candle that would gutter out after a few minutes anyway.

As always, Lucifer came, questioned him, and Castiel's closemouthed determination sent him away. Castiel welcomed drugged oblivion.

 

_**DAY FIVE** _

 

Castiel tried to stretch, hands banging into bars far too close above his head, and hissed in pain. He was tiring of this game already. He rolled cautiously, falling off of his mattress with a yelp.

Lucifer's presence and low question drew no words from Castiel, and food and drink brought the bliss of nothingness.

 

_**DAY SIX** _

 

Castiel didn't move when he woke, feeling the dark and quiet finally beginning to take a toll on his sanity, casting barely a glance at Lucifer as he questioned, "Do you repent, little brother?"

His lips pressed into a firm line, offering that as his answer, and when Lucifer left, he blew the candle out and lay in the dark, dozing. He was desperate. How long had he been here? Days? Weeks? He was starting to lose hope that Dean would ever find him, as unfair as it was of him to doubt Dean after bringing this on himself.

 

_**DAY SEVEN** _

 

Lucifer glanced up in surprise when Castiel made a startled noise at his mattress jerking underneath him. That explained for certain why the cage never seemed the same. Lucifer's eyes slid to the tray, empty, in confusion, but he left, long enough to retrieve a fresh tray. While he was gone, Naomi crept in.

"All you have to do is repent, Castiel. We'll get you help. You can still be saved." Her voice sounded desperate. She did want to save him, but she didn't realize what he truly needed saving from, that much was clear. 

Castiel stared at her passively. "You should go, before Lucifer comes back," were the only words he uttered. 

Namoi dashed at her watering eyes and left, pausing as a shadowed outline at the top of the stairs to glance into the dark over her shoulder.

When Lucifer returned and asked, Castiel only turned on his side, facing away from him. The bars were on the left again today. 

Once Lucifer had left, Castiel pulled out the food and drink he had tucked away from the previous day, consuming all of it and that day's portions without a second thought beyond, "I hope it's enough". 

Sweet unconsciousness claimed him.

 

_**DAY EIGHT** _

 

Castiel slept on, motionless, one moment of respite from Lucifer's endless questioning.

 

_**DAY NINE** _

 

When Castiel awoke, it was with disappointment sinking in his soul.

"That was foolish. Luckily I figured out your game and lowered the second dose," Lucifer's voice came out of the dark.

Castiel gasped and jumped, banging an arm into the bars.

"The only possible endings are you repenting or my ending your sinful life. Do you repent?"

Tears filled Castiel's eyes. Could he lie for freedom? Could he deny Dean? His love for him?

Then he curled his lips back over his teeth and growled, "Love is not a sin. It's a virtue!"

"So you will not repent for the sin of homosexuality?" Lucifer snarled right back. It sent a shiver down Castiel's spine and churned his gut, but he stood firm.

"I cannot repent for that!" Castiel shouted, tears leaking down his cheeks.

A hand shot out, cracking Castiel across the face. So, Lucifer was in the cage with him. Castiel lashed out, kicking into the dark, and smirked at a grunt of pain as one foot connected with solid flesh. His triumph was momentary, short-lived as Lucifer pinned him heavily against the mattress, face shoved into the stench it gave off. 

"He won't save you. He cares more about catching Crowley, so he's not even trying to find you. And you give up your life for your sin!"

His cheek stung, and his ribs ached where Lucifer's knee dug into his side. Tears ran anew, the pain bringing something into sharp relief in his mind.

Dean.

He promised Dean, he wouldn't leave without saying goodbye. He couldn't leave this world without saying goodbye. 

He had to fight. Somehow he had to fight.

 

**_DAY TEN_ **

 

Michael and Lucifer jerked him to his feet before he had a chance to wake, and he sagged, nearly falling before he got his feet under himself. Naomi met them at the top of the stairs, tears in her eyes. "One last chance, Castiel," she begged him with a pleading tone, "one last chance!"

Castiel shook his head. "Lying is a sin. I cannot lie about loving him."

Naomi's face hardened with startling abruptness. "Then so be it." Her concern seemed so fake now, tossed aside so easily. "When you laid a hand upon him, you were lost."

Michael and Lucifer dragged him into the garage, where Naomi opened the trunk of the car. He stared for a moment, confused, before the gravity of the situation struck him.

No! No, it couldn't end like this! He--he had to--

Castiel thrashed. struggling against his brothers' grips and grabbing at Lucifer's jacket. They dumped him into the trunk, right as Castiel's fingers closed around Lucifer's cell phone, and the phone slid from his pocket, unnoticed. The lid of the trunk slammed shut while Castiel was still trying to roll into a more comfortable position, a position he could possibly fight back from. A tire iron was jammed under his tail bone, and he shifted. He lay panting in the dark, cell phone miraculously clutched in his fingers, and waited until the engine roared to life. The door slammed shut (just one? he wasn't sure) and felt the car lurch before he switched the phone on, burying it under himself to muffle the noise as much as possible.

Desperate, he punched in 911, holding his breath. 

"911, what is your emergency?" a female voice answered.

"My name is Castiel Novak, I've been kidnapped!" he hissed into the phone.

"Castiel? My name is Ellie, okay? Can you tell me anything about where you are?"

"I'm in a trunk, a car trunk, my brothers Lucifer and Michael Milton and my mother Naomi Milton are behind this!"

"Can you give me any more details?" Ellie asked.

"I don't--I can't see!" He hissed as he rolled onto the tire iron again.

"What can you tell me about the car?" Ellie presses. "Color, year, make, model?"

"Um, Lincoln. Continental. Yellow?"

"Where did they take you from?"

Castiel rattled off the house address, making an undignified squawk as the driver took a sudden turn.

"Sir, are you alright?'

"He took a turn fast, I hit my shoulder," Castiel groaned.

"Can you try kicking out a tail light, sir? Newer models will pop right out and you can wave a hand around until someone notices."

"Can't you track my location from the phone??" Castiel panted as he tried to wriggle around and kick in the general area of the tail light.

"Working on it, sir. But if someone sees you and calls it in, it'll still help us find you faster."

Castiel balled up and then heaved his legs mightily, slamming his feet, but nothing happened. With a frustrated grunt, he tried again, and then again.

"It's..."  _thump_ "...not..." _thump_ "...working!"  _thump thump thump_

"Okay, okay, stay calm, that means we're looking for an older model vehicle."

"Great, now you tell me that!" Castiel snapped peevishly. He sighed, grunting as he shifted again. "I think it used to belong to my mother's first husband. It might be registered to Michael Milton--" he cut off with a yelp as his head thumped against the trunk lid as the driver flew over a bump.

The phone chimed for a text, and on opening it, Castiel found a general emergency announcement, the kind that sometimes went out for bad weather, or silver and amber alerts, asking people to be on the look-out for a car matching the description and plates of the one he knew was Michael's older car. A few moments later, there came an alert from an incoming call--Michael, probably, trying to warn Lucifer. It would do him no good now.

The car came to a stop and the engine turned off.

"He's stopping, he's stopped," Castiel gasped quietly into the phone, on the verge of tears. Would someone reach him in time?

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Dean kept a close eye on the car, swapping with Benny after a few miles, as Charlie fed them information on the 911 call--from Castiel in the trunk. When the official call came in to take down the target, the car had already pulled into a barn on an abandoned property. God, what was it with serial killers and barns??

The trunk popped open as Castiel shoved the phone in his pocket, and Lucifer roughly dragged him out, Castiel struggling the whole way up a raised platform built in the center with a trap door set in the middle, a noose hanging from a beam above. Castiel shoved at Lucifer, but his grip was unyielding. He could vaguely hear the sounds of vehicles pulling up outside--Michael? His mother? Coming to watch his last moments? Lucifer jerked Castiel to the center of the platform and looped the rope over Castiel's head.

"Lucifer, please, you don't have to do this. Judgement is between a man and his maker, not amongst men." Castiel twisted, but Lucifer's hand reached out for the lever as he stepped away.

Dean raced into the barn, gun drawn and Benny hot on his heels, going cold at the sight before him--Castiel strung up and ready to hang. There was no way he would make it in time, and Benny's shout of, "Freeze or I'll shoot!" fell on deaf ears. Lucifer gripped the lever tight and pulled.

Time seemed to slow, but Dean's aim wavered from Lucifer to the thick rope, and he prayed, squeezing off a shot. The bullet ripped through the rope as Castiel's fingers scrambled to protect his soft throat. A snapping sound echoed, and for one horrified moment, Dean's heart sank and his stomach twisted. "Cas!"

But then he realized Castiel was falling, crumpling to the ground beneath the platform.

Lucifer seemed to realize in nearly the same moment, and he leaped down through the opening, shouting, "No! Your blood is upon you!"

Benny was already more than halfway across the room, Dean's aim was too close. He risked hitting his partner, he couldn't--

A shot cracked through the air. Lucifer's eyes widened and he looked down as blood bloomed from a wound to his chest before he toppled forward, on top of Castiel with a gurgled groan. Dean stopped short before he grinned in relief, resuming his path. "Nice shot, Benny!"

"Me? I thought that was you!" Benny shot back, and Dean stiffened, both of them swinging their guns in search of who fired the shot.

Out of the shadows stepped a figure, hands raised in surrender--a woman with dark brown hair and clad in a black dress. "Don't shoot."

Dean waved to the side with his gun. "Step away from them."

The woman side-stepped, holding the gun in her hand between two fingers. "I'm going to put this on the floor and walk towards you," she said, Dean watching warily. Benny was quick to order her down to her knees and even quicker to cuff her.

"Who are you?" Dean asked, starting as Castiel's dazed state wore off and he began to struggle and whine under Lucifer's cooling corpse. Dean darted across the remaining distance, rolling Lucifer away.

"Cas!" Dean reached for Castiel, filthy and covered in blood, facial hair grown thick and hair matted, and stinking of sweat and urine, but when Castiel reached out for him with a sob, Dean collapsed beside him, drawing Castiel into his arms.

"Did you--is he---" Castiel gasped, frantic.

"Lucifer is dead, Cas," Dean tried to assure him.

Castiel shook his head. "No, is Crowley--"

"Arrested. Adler, too. And police are on the way to arrest your mother and Michael." Castiel buried his face in Dean's neck, breathing in the scent of clean sweat and leather. "Do you think your uncle or one of your other siblings might be able to take Samandriel--er, Alfie--for now?"

"I might be able to help with that," the woman finally spoke, smiling fondly as Castiel raised his head to peer at her.

"Aunt Amara?" Castiel sounded confused.

"Hello Castiel." Her smile shifted to a happier one. "You're free of Lucifer now."

"Aunt? Chuck's wife?" Dean asked, also feeling heavy confusion. Sirens were audible outside, closing in.

"Sister. Naomi is not a blood relation; she was a foster child. But we'll be happy to take Alfie."

Dean looked down at Lucifer's still body. "You kind of just shot a man. I don't see you winning any foster parent of the year awards right now."

"You had no clear aim," the woman, Amara, countered. "I did. It was a long time coming for Lucifer that his ego got him killed. I couldn't allow Castiel to become another hapless victim when I had a clear shot. If it is a crime to save my nephew, then arrest me. But I feel I can argue it was justified."

Dean chewed his lip as the sounds of vehicles and feet outside exploded around them. "You're right, but you still killed him. We have to arrest you."

Amara nodded and remained still as police poured into the barn.

"This is the police, hands in the air!" One of them, Sheriff Doug, called.

Dean called back, "FBI! We're FBI, we need a bus!"

Sheriff Doug straightened slightly. "Winchester, Lafitte, what are you doing here?"

"Solving a crime, saving a life, I thought it was obvious," Dean shot back smugly.

Paramedics swarmed them, and Castiel whined, clutching at Dean's shirt. "I don't need to go to the hospital!" he protested, but Dean shook his head.

"You were held for ten days, you're going. At least to be thoroughly checked out." Dean's tone brooked no arguments.

Castiel was surprised. Ten days? Was that it? It felt so much longer.

Lucifer was sent to the morgue, Amara Shurley for processing and booking, and Castiel to the hospital.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Castiel spent the entire time fussing once he was cleaned up a little.

While he was dehydrated and a little malnourished, the drugs were mostly out of his system, and aside from a few bumps and bruises, he had no major injuries, amazingly. But then, Lucifer tortured the mind and soul, not the body.

"Can I go yet?" he asked the irritated nurse yet again. She narrowed her eyes.

"Mr. Novak--"

"Dr. Novak," Castiel cut in, staring her down. "I am not seriously injured or ill. I want to shower and shave and go to sleep in a real bed."

The nurse glared. "Ah, Dr. Novak. That explains a lot. The police want to question you."

"I don't feel up to talking right now." Castiel nodded at Dean. "You can have me released to him if they're worried. He works for the FBI, he knows the routine."

"You don't feel up to talking, but you certainly feel up to complaining," the nurse grumbled. 

"It's best to be interviewed right away, Cas," Dean said, "but if you're truly not up to it, we won't push."

"I just want to go home, Dean."

"And where's home, exactly?" Dean asked. His thoughts were on Castiel's house, his own apartment, threatened and desecrated former sanctuaries that no longer felt safe.

Castiel reached for him and Dean slid closer, allowing Castiel to loop his arms around Dean's neck and press their foreheads together. "Wherever you are."

The nurse rolled her eyes at them and left to get his paperwork, and a woman stepped into the small curtained-off area.

"Dr. Novak," she greeted in a British accent, "SSA Winchester. I'm Director Bela Talbot of the Chicago branch."

Dean rose long enough to shake her hand, disentangling himself from Castiel's arms. "Pleasure, Director Talbot. We've just informed the nurse that I'll be taking him." He fished a card out of his wallet and handed it over "Cas isn't up to an interview right now, and neither am I, frankly."

She took the card, peering down at it for a moment before looking back up and fiddling with it. 

"Are you related to a John Winchester?" The question was casual and sent a stab of discomfort underneath Dean's skin.

"My father, yeah."

"One of the best agents out there. Too bad he retired" She frowned at him. "You, however, are another matter entirely, Agent Winchester. You went off the radar and dragged your team into it, into our jurisdiction. You may be demoted or even fired for insubordination," Bela said, watching Dean carefully.

Dean shrugged. "Then I'll retire. But I did my job when I needed to most. A man survived, the killer was handled. It's not ideal, but dead means he'll never kill again. He can't walk on these charges. Amara Shurley knows her story will be corroborated and she'll likely be let off, no one will fault her for saving one nephew from another. Neither Benny nor I had a clear shot and the Chicago police would have been too late. If it costs me by job, I have no regret in saving my boyfriend."

Bela's eyebrows shot up, mouthing the word "boyfriend" with a questioning look.

But it was Castiel's gasp that drew Dean's attention, and he met Castiel's wide eyes.

"Dean..."

"You are, Cas. You're my boyfriend. We're dating."

"Dean..." Castiel's voice cracked and his lower lip trembled, tears brimming in his eyes. 

"And Cas? There's....there's one other thing..." Dean said, his teeth working at his lower lip as he glanced down shyly.

"Wh-what's that, Dean?"

Dean finally looked up, smiling timidly. "I love you, Cas."

The tears in Castiel's eyes finally slid down his cheeks as he gave a choked sob. Dean's smile faded into a concerned frown. "Cas, wh-was it too soon? I'm sorry, forget I ever said anything, please..."

With Bela Talbot standing in the room, Castiel grabbed Dean by the collar and dragged him in, kissing him hard on the mouth and shoving his fingers into Dean's hair.

When he finally pulled back, tears were staining Dean's cheeks as well, though Castiel wasn't sure if they were his or Dean's. "I love you, too," he finally replied, their lips still pressed together.

Bela held Dean's card up, backing out of the room. "I'll...call you later," she said, but she went ignored as Castiel kissed Dean again, softly this time.

"Sorry, my mouth probably tastes terrible."

Dean chuckled, pulling away. "I can deal with it. Morning breath is better than never having this again."

The nurse finally brought Castiel his paperwork, and Dean dragged Castiel back to the hotel, making a fast food run through the drive-thru first. When he returned to the room he and Benny had been sharing, it was conspicuously empty, a note on the door.

 

> Chief
> 
> Got a room of my own, but try to keep it down anyway.
> 
> Don't want to scar your neighbors for life!
> 
> -Benny


	14. Hold Me Close

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean finally has Castiel back in his arms, and he knows now he can never let go again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW chapter; sexy times.

Castiel had never been more thankful for good water pressure in his life, and after nearly an hour in the bathroom, he finally emerged in a pair of borrowed pajamas, clean and shaven. Dean had been sitting at the small table in the room, but when Castiel stepped out and spread his hands in a 'Well?' motion, Dean sat up, one hand dropping discreetly to cover his lap. A smile ticked up one corner of Castiel's mouth, but he rushed to hide it as Dean stood to push past him. "Hope you left me some hot water," Dean called over his shoulder, taking his own turn in the bathroom.

When Dean stepped out later, Castiel glanced up at him before dropping his eyes back to his hands in his lap. "Did you mean it before?" Castiel asked softly, padding across the floor to Dean in socked feet.

"Mean what?"

"That you love me?" He came to a stop in front of Dean. "I won't hold you to something you said under stress....but I thought you'd hate me."

Dean looked up in surprise. "Hate you? Why?"

"I left..." Castiel's head dropped and he gripped his hands tightly together, wringing them. "I promised I wouldn't, and I went anyway. I lied, I drugged Benny, I--"

Dean grabbed Castiel by the hips, squeezing lightly and grounding him.

"I thought you would hate me," Dean mumbled, averting his eyes, and it was Castiel's turn to stare in surprise.

"Why on Earth would I ever hate you, Dean? I made the mistakes here."

"Because it took me so long to find you. You nearly slipped through my fingers, right there at the end."

Castiel smiled, hand cupping under Dean's chin to draw his gaze up. "I couldn't die, Dean. It wasn't going to happen. I couldn't leave without saying goodbye. That is one promise I made that first night you asked me to stay, and it is one I intend to keep."

Dean finally smiled, and Castiel closed his hands over Dean's. "Come lie with me, Dean. Just...hold me. We don't have to do anything, but I need you close to me."

Dean nuzzled against Castiel's jaw, pressing a kiss to the bolt of it beneath his ear, allowing himself to be led to one of the beds and pulled down onto it. Castiel curled against his side, and Dean kissed him again, this one pressed to his temple. "Can I ask you something?"

Castiel stiffened slightly. 

"It's not about....I swear," Dean hastened to add.

He felt Castiel relax incrementally before he nodded against Dean's chest.

"Why do people call Samandriel 'Alfie'? Wouldn't 'Sam' make more sense?"

Castiel snorted and buried his face in Dean's shirt to muffle his startled laughter.

"What?" Dean demanded, poking his side playfully, delighting in the fact that even after a terrible ordeal, he had managed to make his boyfriend--wow--laugh.

"He and I both worked at the Gas 'n Sip in town. Nora was the manager. She thought my name, and later Samandriel's, were too strange for the general public. So she just gave us spare tags she had sitting in her drawer. I was 'Steve' for years. Samandriel got 'Alfie'. It started as a joke, calling him that all the time, but then it just stuck."

Dean chuckled. "Yeah, I'm glad 'Steve' didn't stick. I like Castiel way better."

Castiel raised his head to look at Dean in surprise. "Really?"

Dean grinned, kissing him chastely, close-mouthed. "Really. It's unique, like you."

Castiel rolled his eyes, but Dean captured his chin in one hand. "Don't hurt yourself," he teased before closing the distance between their mouths again. It stayed sweet and gentle for a few moments as Castiel turned his head, sliding spit-slick lips against Dean's. But then Dean's lips parted and he drew Castiel's lower lip between his teeth, nibbling gently. Castiel groaned into Dean's mouth, a sound Dean eagerly swallowed as he licked and sucked.

"Dean," Castiel panted breathlessly, "if you don't stop, it's going to be very difficult for me to want to just cuddle." He pulled away and Dean's teeth dragged at his lip before finally releasing the bruised and bitten flesh.

"Maybe that's what I want," Dean replied, his voice low and husky as he tugged at Castiel's hips, trying to urge him on top.

"Dean," Castiel put a hand on his chest to stop him. "I saw your texts, from before Lucifer made me leave my phone. Having you say you love me, calling me your boyfriend, admitting that this is dating, it's more at one time than I dared hope for. You don't even owe me any of that, so you don't owe me sex, either."

Dean narrowed his eyes at Castiel. "I am perfectly able to decide what's too much for me. Now get over here and fuckin' kiss me!"

Castiel didn't need another hint, crawling over Dean and boxing him in with his limbs, leaning down to capture Dean's lips. Dean's fingers wound into his hair at the back of Castiel's head, dragging him into a deep, bruising kiss, all tongues and teeth, fierce exploration, and Dean sucked on Castiel's tongue. His fingers found their way under the soft t-shirt, tugging on it, and Castiel pulled back enough to toss it aside, and then his fingers twisted into the shirt covering Dean. "Can I--?" he panted, and Dean nodded, sitting up and allowing Castiel to pull it up and off. "Just tell me if anything I do is too much, I'll stop, okay?"

Dean nodded again, breathing out a soft  "okay" that was lost in a moan when Castiel attacked his throat, licking and sucking a mark into the skin. He trailed his way down and bit into the ridge of Dean's collar bone, relishing in the noises spilling from Dean's mouth as he soothed the mark with his tongue. He kissed his way down Dean's chest, leaving small bruises in his wake, and when he reached a nipple, he paused, just breathing moist air on it. Then he lowered his head, cautiously flicking his tongue against it--the reaction was instantaneous, Dean arching off the bed with a high, breathy cry, his pants-clad half-hard member grinding up against Castiel's semi-erection in his own sweats. Castiel groaned, grinding his hips down as he continued to assault one nipple, biting and sucking and licking as he rocked them together.

"Still too much clothing," Dean panted, and Castiel paused.

"Are you certain?"

"Wanna feel you on my skin, Cas," Dean gasped out, pulling at the waistband of Castiel's sweats. Castiel backed off, shucking them as Dean fumbled with his own pants,  and Dean lifted his hips as Castiel jerked down his pants and boxers in one go. He paused, tossing them haphazardly to the side, and then sat back, looking down at the glory of his naked boyfriend--he grinned at the thought--for the first time (because at the time, he hadn't spent much time thinking about it the night he left, and Dean hadn't been at that point of calling them boyfriends yet); freckles covering pale skin, muscled biceps and legs, a slight pudge on his belly from too many burgers and too much pie, and most gloriously, his cock, thick and hard, flushed red and pressed against his belly as it leaked at the tip.

Dean, too, could appreciate Castiel's nude form in this position. Stretches of tanned skin, runner's thighs, flat and trim tummy. Dean had always thought of himself as decently endowed, and while Castiel had seen his cock before, he'd only gotten a feel of Castiel's. Seeing it was a different story, because he was impressive, and Dean swallowed hard. 

"What would you like, Dean?" Castiel asked, voice low and gravelly in a way that went straight to Dean's dick. "My hands? My mouth?"

Speaking of mouths, Dean's had gone dry, and it took a few tries to rasp out, "Kiss me, please..."

Castiel obliged, surging forward and covering Dean's mouth with his own, muffling Dean's whine when their cocks bumped together. Castiel reached between them, bringing their lengths together in his hand, thrusting against Dean until he made an unhappy noise at the dry friction between them, small amounts of precome not enough to soothe the burn.

"Dean?"

"Lube. In my bag," Dean grunted, and Castiel scrambled for the duffle, digging around before he lifted the bottle triumphantly and quickly returned. The bottled opened with a snap, and drizzling some in his palm, he resumed their former activity, Dean arching arching deliciously against him. "Wait," Dean panted, reaching between them and pushing Castiel's hand away. "D-do that thing you did before, with my leg."

Castiel lifted one of Dean's legs, pushing it up and thrusting between his thighs as he slathered on the lube. Dean's head fell back and he let loose a strangled cry, clutching at him. "That?" Castiel asked, pressing a kiss to Dean's exposed throat, and Dean nodded frantically. Castiel lifted the other thigh, grinding his slicked member hard against Dean's perineum, drinking in the helpless noises of pleasure falling from Dean's lips.

"Fuck, fuck, Cas!" The pressure and friction were good, so good, but it wasn't enough, and Dean tangled his fingers with Castiel's, pushing his hand down between his legs and shoving Castiel's hand lower and lower. "Please, please, I need--Cas!" Dean was red-faced and breathing hard when Castiel pulled back, his brow scrunched.

"Dean, are you cer--"

"If you ask me if I'm certain, I will beat you over the head with the lube!"

Castiel bit back a chuckle, grabbing the bottle and liberally applying it to three fingers...as an afterthought, he slicked a fourth. He wasn't expecting Dean to go that far, but better to be prepared. He set the bottle aside while Dean splayed his legs wide, Castiel sliding one finger from Dean's balls to the tightly furled muscle below. He circled it gently with a fingertip before he began to press in. Dean clenched his teeth, hissing in a breath, and one hand shot down to tightly grip the base of his cock. "Gimme a sec," Dean groaned thickly, "'m too close."

Castiel distracted him, running his clean hand up and down Dean's thigh and pressing soft kisses wherever he could reach. When Dean finally nodded, Castiel returned to circling the tip of his index finger at Dean's entrance before slowly pressing to the first knuckle. "Is this okay?" he asked against Dean's throat, and Dean stiffened and growled. 

"Don't make me hit you, I'm not breakable."

In retaliation, Castiel slid the rest of his finger in, moving it slowly in and out as Dean clenched around the intrusion with a groan. Once Dean relaxed, he slid a second finger in alongside the first, crooking his fingers. He knew instantly when he found what he was searching for when Dean nearly shot upright with a shout, clamping down. "Jesus, fuck, shit!" Castiel stroked again, and Dean melted into the mattress, moaning and hips jerking. 

Castiel grinned, pleased with himself. "Found it."

"Don't sound so smug, keep going," Dean complained, squeezing his arm. Castiel went back to work, strumming over every nerve as he thrusted, twisted, and scissored his fingers, sure to brush against Dean's prostate every few strokes. Dean was a squirming mess by the time Castiel slid in a third finger, hissing at the slight burn of the stretch, but it soon dissolved into helpless pleas as Castiel mercilessly abused the bundle of nerves inside of him. He reached out the wrap his fingers around Dean's length, but Dean pushed him away. "No, Cas, wanna come with you in me, feels so good, baby, need you, please..." Dean babbled. Castiel worked a fourth finger into him, and Dean whined, "Don't want fingers, want your cock, baby."

Castiel frowned. Despite Dean's past, or perhaps because of it, he refused to give in. "I don't want to hurt you, Dean."

Dean dug his fingers into Castiel's hair, dragging him into a kiss and harshly biting at his lips as he gripped his leaking cock. He pulled back far enough to demand roughly, "Get your dick in me before I come, Cas!"

Castiel finally pulled his fingers free, watching as Dean clenched around the emptiness, and wiped the excess lube on the blankets before rooting for a condom in Dean's toiletries bag. He tore the foil package open and rolled it down over his member, and grabbing the lube, he drizzled a generous amount on, nursing his erection carefully so he wouldn't come before he got into Dean himself.

Dean began to roll to his belly, but Castiel stopped him with a hand to his shoulder. "I want to see your face when you come, sweetheart."

Dean swallowed hard and nodded. "Okay. Okay, Cas."

Castiel scooted closer, and Dean tucked his legs up. Castiel, however, slid an arm under one, propping it up over his shoulder. He barely pressed the head of his cock against Dean's reddened and loosened rim, looking up to stare Dean in the eye. "You can change your mind at any time, Dean. I could even bottom if you don't want to--"

Dean reached out and smacked the back of Castiel's head. "Stop talking and get in me."

Castiel huffed and shook his head. "Impatient." But he complied, slowly pressing in, staring between them as Dean's body stretched and finally allowed his cock entrance for the first time. Castiel paused with just the head inside, overloaded from the sensation, but also trying to give Dean a chance to adjust.

Dean instead tried to hook his free leg around Castiel's hip and buck up onto him. Castiel clasped his hip hard, though, holding him in place until Dean whined, "C'mon, Cas, c'mon, please!"

Castiel finally gave in, sliding in another inch and pausing.

"Cas! Get the fuck on with the fucking, man!"

"Dean, I won't hurt y--"

Dean finally wrenched free from Castiel's grasp, jerking his hips up forcefully and spearing himself open on Castiel's cock with a loud moan. "Oh God, Cas, so good, so fucking good!"

Castiel redoubled his grip on Dean, groaning low in his throat. "Don't move, Dean," he rasped, "or I'm not going to last." He squeezed his eyes shut as pleasure zinged up his spine, courtesy of Dean's body sheathing his aching cock. The feeling was absolutely exquisite.

Dean stilled, giving Cas a chance to breathe and pull himself back from the edge. 

After a minute or two, Castiel finally looked up, locking eyes with Dean. "Ready?"

"Been ready," Dean grunted. "Now get on with the fuckin'."

"No. I'm not going to fuck you--" Dean groaned at Castiel's words, because seriously? "--I'm going to make love to you." Dean stilled again, staring up at Cas as he began to move, shallow and gentle thrusts at first as he and Dean developed a rhythm. But then Castiel sped up, faster, harder, kissing Dean hard, an exchange of heated breaths more than anything else.

Castiel shifted and Dean stiffened in his arms, shouting and clinging to Castiel. "There, Cas, right there!" Castiel obliged, hands digging into Dean's skin, sure to leave bruises. Dean was too lost to care, using his legs to anchor himself to Castiel's hips and bucking up to meet each thrust. When Castiel's hips began to stutter, though, Dean knew he was close, and his rocked his hips and squeezed hard around him. "Damn it, Dean," Castiel moaned in his ear, and he reached to get a hand around Dean's cock, stripping his length furiously.

Dean tumbled over the edge with a loud cry on his lips as he came in wet bursts between them, on Castiel's hand and their bellies. The feeling of Dean spasming around his cock was too much, and only a few thrusts later, Castiel pushed as deep as he could go and stilled, groaning as he spilled his own release into the condom in hot pulses.

When their breathing had calmed, Castiel slid free as gently as he could, but Dean still winced slightly, trying to sit up as Castiel slid the condom off, knotting it and tossing it in the garbage can. "Just relax, Dean," Castiel rumbled and Dean fell back against the pillows, frowning at the sticky come starting to cool and crust on his belly. Castiel disappeared into the bathroom, reemerging a few minutes later to wipe Dean down with a warm, wet washcloth.

"Thought it was my turn to clean up," Dean joked weakly.

Castiel looked up sharply but then glanced away and shrugged. "You get a free pass this time." He tossed the cloth aside, settling down against Dean's side, tugging the blankets free to cover them and wrapping his arms tight as he settled against Dean's bare chest. When he peeked up, Dean was frowning and Castiel felt his blood run cold. Did Dean regret it, now that it was said and done?

"Dean?"

"Why did I wait so long for that?"

Oh. "Was it not very good?"

Dean sputtered a laugh as he pulled back to stare at Castiel incredulously. "I'm pretty sure I screamed how good it was. Which was really good. Best sex ever. Just, why did I wait so long to do it?"

"Nerves? Fear that doing it with someone besides a paying customer and enjoying it really would make you not the heterosexual man you swore you were?"

Dean winced, and Castiel ducked his head. "I am sorry, Dean. I was being presumptuous, and I've been told I can be rather blunt."

"You were being right," Dean replied. 

"That's not even a grammatically correct sentence."

"I was making a point," Dean shot back.

"Which is?"

"The Great Straight Dean Winchester is bisexual," Dean said with a completely (unlike him) straight face.

But Castiel's face split into a grin and he rolled on top of Dean, kissing him soundly.

Dean chuckled, kissing him back, and finally Castiel settled down again, Dean rubbing slow circles against his back.

Castiel was warm and beginning to doze when Dean spoke up, his chest vibrating under Castiel's ear.

"You know, I think that I understand my dad a little better now."

Castiel frowned, his brow creasing. "What do you mean?"

"Mom loved him endlessly, flaws and all. She never gave up on him. You've been the same, no matter how I pushed you away or tried to run." Dean paused, taking a deep breath. "And then he lost her. How bad it must have hurt to lose her, knowing how much it hurt to almost lose you--" Dean choked off.

"You didn't lose me," Castiel assured.

"She was the one he wanted to grow old with, the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Cas, you're it for me. I was scared for wanting it, especially so soon, but I know. I just know." He fumbled with his right hand, pulling a simple gold band from his finger. "It's my mom's ring...you don't have to say yes, this doesn't even have to be a proposal, just a promise, but I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to grow old with you. So, I mean, if I hypothetically asked you to marry me...?"

Castiel stared up at him, slack-jawed and wide-eyed, and Dean fidgeted. "I can...I can get a different ring....and propose for real later...?"

"No!" Castiel him off sharply, and Dean's expression crumpled, crestfallen.

"No? You don't feel the same way?"

Castiel shook his head in frustration. "I mean yes, I'll marry you, no hypothetically about it. No, I don't need another ring. It's perfect." 

"Yeah?" Dean's voice cracked with hope, sounding watery.

"Yes, Dean." Castiel let Dean slide the ring onto his finger and let it rest there before Dean drew Castiel's hand to his lips and kissed it. "Just for the record, I want a long engagement."

Dean laughed. "Yeah, we can arrange that. We'll need time to save up, after all."

They fell asleep, Dean was willing to admit, cuddling. It was good. Nice. Perfect, even.

But not so perfect that Dean's dreams weren't plagued with nightmares, as they had been every night in the prior week and a half. He'd hoped having Castiel back would fix the problem, but this nightmare was a new one, Castiel lying dead in his arms, eyes glazed over and head lolling at an awkward angle, neck broken.

The sound of his own sob wrenched him awake, shaking and sweating slightly, slowly coming back to himself. Castiel was there. Castiel was lying in his arms. Castiel was alive.

Castiel was safe.

He shook his head, trying to clear away the cobwebs of the dream, frowning, and tried to go back to sleep.

However, it evaded him and he finally gave up, grabbing his phone to text Sam and let him know that he was alive. That Castiel was alive.

**DW: We found Cas, in case no one told you yet. Safe and sound.**

What Dean wasn't expecting, even though it was early enough in the morning for Sam, the health nut, to be awake for his run, was for the phone in his hand to ring. Dean rushed to answer it, not wanting to wake Castiel, even following his miserable dream.

"Sam?" Dean rasped, voice still sleep-rough. He thought about pulling on clothes to get breakfast and coffee downstairs.

"Good, you're awake. Also, I'm really glad you found Cas. How's he holding up so far?" Sam said, far too chipper for the early hour.

"So far so good, I guess," Dean replied, yawning and slipping free to tug on a clean pair of boxers 

"And you?"

"Also good, I think."

"You think?"

"I think I had a bad dream, but it was over before I could really figure out what I was dreaming," Dean lied. He bit his lip, switching to a different but truthful topic. "I, uh, I'd like to see you and Sarah when we get back. I mean, Cas still has to give his statement, but I'm hoping it'll be soon."

"That sounds really good, actually," Sam replied, and then he cleared his throat.

"Something you wanna share with the class, Sammy?" Dean raised a brow, even if Sam couldn't see it. 

"I, uh..." Dean took the pause to pull on a tee and mostly clean jeans. "I was wondering if you knew what happened to Mom's ring."

"Uh, I have them both. Engagement band is in a safety deposit box, but I've been wearing the plain band. Why?"

Sam cleared his throat again and Dean could hear him shifting. "I, um, was thinking about asking Sarah to marry me." He could practically hear Sam blushing through the phone and Dean grinned.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. So, uh..."

"You can have the engagement ring, but..." Dean said, trailing off and glancing down at Castiel, hand splayed over the blankets as he slept on.

"You want to keep wearing the other one?"

"No. I, um. What would you say if I hypothetically proposed to Cas and he hypothetically said yes...." Dean swallowed hard with a click, "....and I hypothetically gave him Mom's wedding band?" He could feel his own face heating.

"You gave it to Cas?" Dean could practically see Sam's confused puppy face in his mind.

"Yeah." Dean coughed slightly. "I know what you're thinking, it hasn't been very long, we haven't even moved in together, but I love him, he's the one, and I swear we're planning on a long engagement--"

"Dean, you're babbling. Congrats, man."

"Thanks. I can pick up the other ring for you later, then?"

"Yeah, sure. You, uh," Sam paused again. "You want me to spread the word or keep quiet?"

"Keep it quiet for now, thanks."

"Dean, I'm really happy for you. But, uh, about the whole moving in together thing?"

"What did you do?" Dean's eyes narrowed, and he let loose a low, angry noise.

"Charlie did it! Cas' house got a full price offer. He obviously has to sign the contract still, but we found you a new apartment. A better one with security and a pool and a gym--"

"Sam--"

"--and we moved yours and Cas' furniture in, not all of it, obviously, some went into storage, but it looks like a good mix of your stuff. If you hate it we can change it. Or you can move out next month or whatever."

"Sam!"

"Yes?" Sam squeaked, fearful of what his older brother might say.

"What happened to my favorite armchair?" Dean growled. He paused, pressing a kiss to Castiel's forehead before slipping out and down the hall in search of breakfast.

Sam laughed. "Your precious armchair made the cut, don't worry. Charlie vouched for it in the final design. Ash, Garth, Cole, Kevin, Victor, me, and Sarah all helped, you know. Jo and Ellen helped, too, feeding everyone."

Dean felt his eyes sting, and he cleared his throat. "Thanks....I don't know what to say," Dean finally managed, stunned by the acceptance of his relationship and generosity of his friends and family.

"No problem. Congrats again, man."

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

When Dean returned to the room with breakfast, it was to a fiance who was still asleep, a frown creasing his forehead as he made a soft, unhappy noise in his throat. Dean set everything down on the table, perching on the edge of the mattress by Castiel before leaning down to press a kiss to his brow. "Hey, baby, wake up." Dean reached out to shake him awake, but Castiel shot up abruptly with a startled gasp. Dean pulled back, holding his hands up defensively and mumbling a quick apology.

Castiel panted anxiously and stared at Dean in a daze for a few moments, trying to remember where he was, before he crumpled forward against him, frowning and distressed. "Dean," he sighed against Dean's chest, and Dean finally slid his arms around him, rubbing his back.

"Bad dreams?"

"Yes."

"Me, too. But I have good news."

Castiel scrunched his eyes shut. "Does it involve more sleep with you?"

Dean laughed slightly. "Nope, but I can offer you the second best thing with me?"

"Sex?"

A startled laugh punched out of Dean. "Third best?"

"Burgers?"

Dean snorted. "Okay, a good thing, then. Coffee."

"Oh. Coffee will do, I suppose."

Dean chuckled. "There's also bacon, egg, and cheese bagels." He rose to retrieve the bag, passing one wrapped bagel to Castiel.

He unwrapped it and bit into, moaning. "Mm, I missed real food."

Dean nodded and perched on the end of the bed, fidgeting with the wrapper on his own as he bit into his sandwich. Castiel eyed him suspiciously.

"What did you do?"

Dean ducked his head. "Nothing!"

"Dean."

"Okay, okay. Sam was asking about our mom's rings, so I may have told him. I asked him not to say anything for now, but Charlie is kind of persistent when she knows something is up."

Castiel's brows rose. "Oh. I see."

Dean coughed and nodded. "So....yeah. He's okay with it."

"Good."

"You, um....you can have my clean pants to wear," Dean finally offered after he finished off the last bite of his breakfast and sipped his coffee.

Castiel smiled. "That's very thoughtful."

Dean snorted, cracking a grin. "Good manners." He tossed Castiel a clean shirt to go with the pants.

Castiel dressed quickly, and Dean drew him in for a kiss. Castiel smiled against his mouth, shifting to deepen the kiss when Dean's phone rang abruptly. "Ignore it," Castiel said against his mouth, but then it rang again.

Dean pulled away with a sigh. "Sammy, I'm gonna kick your ass," he muttered, grabbing the phone to answer it. It was not Sam.

"Director Talbot!"

Castiel shot upright at the name, glancing at Dean nervously.

"Can you bring Novak by in half an hour to give his statement?" Talbot asked in Dean's ear.

Dean stiffened, frowning, but he nodded out of habit. "Absolutely, Director. We'll see you in a bit."

Castiel was watching Dean closely as he hung up. "So?"

"So, we have to go."

Castiel frowned, pouting a little, and Dean leaned forward, nipping at his soft, pink, chapped lips. "We need you to get you a tube of Blistex while we're out," Dean murmured, and Castiel drew back to give him a confused look. "Never mind."

As they left, they ran into Benny, Bobby, and Rufus in the lobby. Benny was grinning and chuckling at them. "So, you two have fun?" he asked.

Well, if Benny was expecting Dean to act embarrassed, he wasn't going to get a show this time. Dean grinned back. "Sure did." He slid an arm around his fiance's waist, pulling him close and pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Best sex I ever had." Castiel blushed bright red.

Benny shook his head, still grinning, and although Rufus and Bobby shot him faintly annoyed looks as they protested, "TMI, Dean!", he could still see mirth behind their eyes.

Bobby glanced down, eyes widening at the sight of the ring on Castiel's finger.

"Where you heading?" Rufus asked.

"Director Talbot wants to interview Cas today," Dean replied levelly.

"Well, good luck, Cas," Bobby said, slapping Castiel's shoulder before glancing at Dean. "Can I talk to you for a moment?" he asked, pulling Dean to the side.

Dean flushed, following after the man he considered more a father to him than his own ever was.

"Your mom's ring."

"Uh, yeah," Dean said, rubbing the back of his neck. "He said yes."

Bobby eyed him critically before finally sighing in wary acceptance. "Congratulations. Take good care of him."

Dean nodded, understanding. "Yes, sir, I will," he conceded softly before he returned to Castiel's side, looping an arm around him. "We should go before we're late."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize if you're not a bottom!Dean fan. While I am happy with either way, I not only tend to prefer bottom!Dean, I think it's a necessary thing given Dean's past to help him get past the mental roadblocks he has surrounding physical intimacy with other men.


	15. Reparations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel breaks down, Dean has to pull him together and fight on his behalf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am going to take a moment to remind everyone, if it's hot out and you're working outside for long hours, stay hydrated.

The ride to the head office was quiet except for soft music on the radio, the volume low as Dean held Castiel's hand in the space between them.

"You sure you're ready for this, Cas?" Dean dared a quick glance sideways to where Castiel was hunched over in the seat, and Dean gave his hand a light squeeze.

Castiel looked up, startled. "What?"

Dean frowned. "Don't get lost on me now. You want me to turn around and tell Talbot not today?"

Castiel took a deep breath and shook his head. "No. No I--I need to. I need to do this. I can do this, Dean." But even as he spoke, he began to shake minutely, tremors shivering up Dean's arm through their linked hands.

Dean slowed the car, starting to veer toward the shoulder."Shit, Cas. You don't have to so soon. You can wait--"

"I have to do this now!" Castiel cut Dean off, his breath hitching a little. "If I wait, I'll lose my nerve."

After a beat, Dean nodded and sped up again.

When they reached the FBI office, Dean quickly discovered Rufus, Bobby, and Benny had already been questioned, leaving Dean and Castiel, and Talbot immediately motioned for one of her Agents to take Dean in the opposite direction from where another agent was leading Castiel.

Dean frowned at her. "I'm staying with Cas," he said firmly, crossing his arms in an attempt to look stern, but only managing to achieve petulant as Talbot raised an eyebrow at him. 

"I need to talk to you alone for a few minutes, Winchester. Your boyfriend will survive."

"Fiance. And he's been fine because he has had me in proximity since his rescue."

Talbot's other eyebrow joined the first and she turned slightly to face him. "Be that as it may, you and I need to talk. Novak will be taken elsewhere. We won't leave your precious boyfriend--excuse me, fiance--alone. Happy?"

Castiel reached out and grabbed Dean's hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "I'll be okay, Dean. You go."

Dean tailed after Talbot, glaring at the agent walking with them when their bony elbow gouged into his side, propelling him into a small interview room. Talbot motioned for Dean to sit, but Dean looked around cautiously, waiting until Talbot sat before he finally sank down into the chair opposite her. "So, talk."

"Tell me about the incident." Talbot's tone brooked no argument from the average man, but then again, Dean was not average. Dean was stubborn.

"He was kidnapped. What more do you need to know?"

"His mother indicated he came of his own volition." Talbot's tone was cold.

"That doesn't mean he didn't go through hell, Talbot! And to have not one but two killers after you, if the one that won't kill you right away offers you information about the one that might....he thought his only choices were between the possible fates at the hands of Lucifer or Crowley!" Dean protested, eyes narrowed.

"So you encouraged him to go?" Talbot was directing the questioning, and Dean ground his teeth, throwing his hands up with a growl of frustration.

"No! I begged him to stay. I reported everything to Cain!"

"Yet you left and recruited Lafitte, Turner, and Singer to your cause, and not on Cain's orders."

"The Lucifer case already belonged to myself and Lafitte. Turner and Singer were not assigned another case and took personal leave time to join us. Cas was going to be joining us at our office, that makes him as good as family. Surely you would go to any length for your agents, Talbot?" Dean leaned on the table, staring her down, but Talbot didn't even flinch.

"No, he is 'family' because he is your fiance. If Cain knew, I can't imagine he would have kept Novak on. You went off the reservation for a sweetheart."

"For a friend. For a coworker. For a victim, Talbot. Victims are our job." Dean was easing into the old routine of this back-and-forth, using anything he could to make his point and search out weaknesses in Talbot's arguments.

"You're outside of your jurisdiction."

"On my case. Crossing state lines doesn't end my involvement in or knowledge of the case. If you want this to be independent of the department, then fine, we can say I was using my personal time to do it. My choice, my time, I went rogue. But I did it. I made the call that caught the Demon King in the end and I got to Cas in time to see him saved from Lucifer, a rescue which, I might add, your people did not arrive to until it was over and done with. I'm sorry if saving people shames you and the department." Dean knew the last comment was snarky and unnecessary, but his frustration was simmering close to the surface.

"There are rules, laws, and we are not above them." Talbot leaned back in her chair, eyeing him.

"Loitering isn't illegal, neither is tracking a 911 call in progress, nor is following a car, and none of us shot Lucifer," Dean shot back.

"You and Ms. Shurley tested positive for gunshot residue yesterday."

"Not my bullet that killed him. Even if I hadn't been present, the exit wound was the wrong size for the caliber of my handgun. Mine is a .22, hers was larger."

Talbot eased forward, tilting her head with a faint smirk tugging at one corner of her mouth. "You seem sure."

"I was there, of course I'm sure. You can fire me, if you feel it's necessary. But I won't regret saving a man."

Talbot's smirk disappeared, opened her mouth to speak, but then someone pounded on the door, and she stormed out. A few moments later, she popped her head back in, glaring.

"What?" Dean demanded, matching her sour expression.

"Your boyfriend--sorry, fiance--is having a panic attack."

Dean resisted the dual urges to face palm and flip the bird. "I could have predicted that."

Talbot sighed, frustrated. "Can you calm him down?"

"Oh, am I allowed to help the victim now?" Dean quipped sarcastically. He couldn't help himself.

"No, you're allowed to help your...fiance." Talbot replied in a dead tone.

"How kind."

"Just get moving, Winchester."

Dean rose and followed her down the hall to another room, this one not a mere interview room but an interrogation room.

"You put him in here?" Dean glanced at Talbot. "Of course he's panicking, he probably thinks he's in trouble!"

"His participation could make him complicit."

"So if I put a gun to your head and told you to take a walk with me, and you came along, you would be complicit in your own abduction?" Dean challenged.

"Are you threatening me?" Talbot shot back, eyes narrowing.

"I'm making a point!" Dean nearly shouted.

"He crossed state lines, Winchester, on his own."

"With threats looming over both our heads! And in ten days' time, my team brought down two killers who had been loose for years out of his sacrifice! Maybe not an ideal method, but in the end, it worked out. It was a selfless decision, but complicit?" Dean growled. "I'm going in."

The door swung open to reveal Castiel hunched over at the table, shivering and panting and wrapped tightly in his own arms. The agent who had accompanied him was in the corner, eyeing Castiel warily, a splash mark against the wall where a cup of coffee had been thrown.

"Cas?"

Castiel flinched and turned, eyes red and shining with tears, his cheeks wet. "D-Dean? Am I....are they...arresting me?"

Dean surged forward, feeling a spark of vindication when Castiel reached for him instead of pulling away. "No, baby, no. The interview rooms are all full. You shouldn't have been here, I'm sorry. I was getting yelled at, or I would have been here the whole time." He folded his arms around his fiance, kissing his forehead and pushing the hair from his face. How easily the lie had come, but it didn't seem to bother him.

"Why?" Castiel's voice was quiet, tentative.

"I didn't exactly follow the regulations. But then again, neither did the rest of the team." Dean shrugged, rubbing Castiel's arms as he trembled and sniffled.

When Castiel looked up at him, Dean wiped his cheeks with gentle fingers. "Why?" he asked again, and this time, Dean smiled.

"You're family, baby. Stuck with all of us. You sure you want to marry me? It comes with a lot of people."

"Th-that can be a good thing when you're in trouble," Castiel laughed, watery-sounding and rough.

Talbot knocked on the window--well, Dean assumed it was her--so he took a deep breath. "Talbot is going to need your side of the story, still."

"I know. Will you stay?"

"I'll have to see if I'm allowed." Dean dropped another kiss to his brow, squeezed his hand, and rose. "I need you to stay strong for me, baby, even if it's just a few minutes until I can come back and help hold you together again if you need it. Okay?"

Castiel nodded and wiped at his face, still shaking, and it made Dean's heart ache as he returned to Talbot.

"Can we move him? He's scared, doesn't want to be in there without me. He's a victim, Talbot, not a criminal, and yet thus far you're treating him like he's the killer himself," Dean said, glaring at Talbot. Her returning gaze was unwavering.

"Having you there may change his story."

"Having me not there may prevent you from getting one at all," Dean replied.

"We'll see," Talbot said, frowning. 

Dean growled faintly. "Can I at least observe?"

"Fine."

Talbot strode into the interrogation room as Dean scooted quickly into the observation room next door, barely nodding at the agent running the recording board as he watched through the two-way mirror as Castiel hunched away from Talbot, glaring at her proffered hand like it was a snake that might bite him. She dropped her hand and sat down across from him.

But then she launched into questioning, and even Castiel knew she was running it like an interrogation and not like a debriefing interview. Dean scowled, watching as Castiel shrank in on himself all over again. His answers were short and terse, breathy and frightened as he stared at the table. Dean knew things were going to hell again when Castiel resumed trembling.

"Mr. Novak--"

"Doctor." The word quivered.

"Dr. Novak, we can't help you if you won't answer my questions."

Castiel stared at the table, his breathing increasing in pace, his chest heaving.

Dean clenched his hands before turning and stalking out of the observation room to charge into the interrogation room. Two sets of eyes shot up, one pair full of anger, the other, relief, two voices overlapping in an angry, "Winchester!" and a relieved, "Dean!"

Dean ignored Talbot, pulling a chair over and sliding in next to Castiel. He folded Castiel into his arms, and slowly Castiel began to relax, even as Talbot shouted, "Where's Walker? Get in here and get rid of this guy!"

No response came, and Talbot rose to remove Dean herself, but Castiel clung tightly.

"If you re-remove him, I refuse to answer anymore questions. If I am not under arrest then--then I should be free to go at any time, and I will leave."

"Or I can hold you for 72 hours without charging you," Talbot countered.

"And how would that look to the media? Director of the Chicago branch of the FBI holds victim of a vicious kidnapping for 72 hours following victim's frightened refusal to answer questions in regard to the investigation. Yeah, stellar headline, Talbot," Dean fired back.

Talbot was incensed, red-faced and teeth grinding. "You're well on your way to getting fired, Winchester."

"I was thinking of changing career paths anyway," Dean replied, grinning. His hand rubbed slow circles against Castiel's back.

Castiel sagged against him, but after long minutes, his breathing calmed and he finally spoke up. "I'm ready to answer your questions. If Dean can stay."

Talbot froze, mouth open to yell at Dean, and Dean bit back the urge to shoot her a smug "I told you so" smirk.

She sat stiffly and folded her hands, turning back to Castiel. "Alright then. Start at the beginning."

"Which beginning? The one where Lucifer threatened me, or the one where I realized Lucifer was still active?"

Talbot looked up in interest. "The latter."

"Dean showed me the case file for a Nick Morningstar's murders a few weeks ago, and it was at the time I told him that I believed the killer was Lucifer Milton."

"What led you to believe that?"

"The complaints from victims resembled complaints lodged by my brother, James, in the days preceding his death."

"What proof did you have that Lucifer did it?"

"He was convicted as a juvenile."

"There is no case file on any Lucifer Milton," Talbot replied steadily.

 "It was destroyed upon his release from juvenile detention, as per his plea deal."

"So you told Agent Winchester that your older brother was the killer?"

"No," Castiel shook his head. "I didn't. I told him Lucifer Milton was likely the killer but not that he is-- _was_ \--my brother."

"Why not?" Talbot demanded, and Castiel shrank against Dean's chest, fingers twisting nervously into the fabric of Dean's shirt as he began to shake minutely. Dean's hand resumed stroking soothingly against his back.

"It's....it's hard enough to say my twin was murdered. At the time, I wasn't ready."

"When did you inform him? Or at least inform someone?" Talbot was practically sneering at him, and Dean glared pointedly.

"After the noose and note were discovered in my closet," Castiel replied, voice quiet. He knew he should have said something sooner, but the fear, the pain of the memories had been too great. "The note said as much."

"And how did he get in?"

Dean cut in to answer that question. "Director Cain interviewed Cas' realtor personally last week and she recognized Lucifer from giving him a tour of the property."

"Okay, and then what? Which of you discovered the noose?" Talbot's eyes glanced between them.

"Dean discovered it. We'd stayed the night in town after a party, and he found it when he was looking for clean clothing the next morning," Castiel offered.

"My brother's birthday," Dean interjected. If they wanted confirmation of their whereabouts, there would be plenty to offer.

"So Dean discovered it and then?"

"Dean called Director Cain right away. We waited until we were released and returned to Dean's apartment in Kansas City."

"And then found the threat from Crowley, correct? Tell me what you found." Talbot was pushing hard for information because, for the most part, Dean and Castiel were not offering anything additional. If she wanted it, she'd have to ask for it. She tilted her head, looking less like a cute puppy like Castiel did and more like a hawk eyeing prey to devour.

"The door was open, so we didn't see it until after Dean had called in for backup."

Talbot nodded. "Continue."

"And after suffering through a second round of searches and questioning, Dean took us to a safe house where we were joined by Benny."

"And what did you do prior to leaving the safe house?"

Castiel winced, and Dean growled. "You read the report filed, Talbot."

"I still expect to hear it from him," Talbot snapped, her head whipping from Castiel toward Dean, the two of them leveling dark looks at one another until Talbot looked back at Castiel.

"L-later that evening, after Dean was asleep, I drugged Benny and took his car."

"So you drugged a federal officer and hijacked a federal vehicle."

Castiel hung his head, and Dean's knuckles dug into the tense muscles along his fiance's spine. "Crowley threatened Dean," Castiel argued softly.

"And you didn't trust us to do our job?" Talbot demanded.

Castiel's brow knit together, scrunching between his eyes before he responded, measured and with surprising calmness. "No. If we had been in Dean's apartment that night, who knows what would have happened?"

"So you went in alone against Lucifer instead?"

"Crowley's threat against Dean was immediate. I knew Lucifer wouldn't kill me right away. I also knew his form of torture was psychological, not physical. People won't have to see those scars on me, and Lucifer offered information on Crowley."

"You had no promise he would give you anything."

"I stayed out of his range until he gave me something to tell Dean, something that sounded as though it was legitimate."

"You could have simply left after that," Talbot reasoned. 

"And been on my guard until he was otherwise captured or killed? No. I didn't want him to escape. I didn't want it to be a surprise when he decided to come after me on his own. I wanted Dean to be able to track me and find me. That's why I took Benny's car and not Dean's." Not entirely true. He mostly didn't want to steal Dean's precious Baby. "I wanted them to follow me, straight to Lucifer, and they did." That much was true, he'd wanted Dean to find him all along. "I...simply hadn't anticipated how long it would take."

"Shouldn't have worn me out so badly," Dean quipped in a low voice, close to Castiel's ear.

Talbot was frowning. "So what did he tell you?"

"Wait a minute," Dean cut in. "That's in the report as well. We gave you Cas' phone and the message, and you can check for yourself what Charlie Bradbury and Victor Henrikson did with that information, through completely legal channels I might add. I might remind you again to think of the image of the FBI, Director Talbot. You really want to charge the guy the news is touting as a hero with a crime?"

Castiel's eyes widened in surprise. Dean hadn't let him watch or listen to the news since his rescue. "Hero?"

Dean nodded. "Kansas hero's actions help track down two serial killers. Headlines everywhere."

"I had no idea," Castiel replied after a moment.

Dean grinned and leaned close. "Red," was the only word he uttered, but Castiel understood. Charlie had publicized his actions to some degree the moment he'd been rescued. The coverage made it harder for the FBI to gain any convictions if they wanted to charge him with anything.

Talbot was practically steaming at the pair. "Okay, fine. So Lucifer gave you the information, you texted it to Dean, and then you went with him. What happened after that?"

"Michael and my mother tried to convince me to....say I wanted to repent."

Talbot didn't react.

"Like being gay is a sin. I can't help it, and I love Dean, so I refused. Lucifer drugged me and kept me locked in a cage in the basement for days. He would move things around when I was under and kept me in the dark, so I never knew exactly where I was in proximity to anything. The only light I would get was a small candle stub with drugged bread and water. Every day, it was the same question, if I was ready to repent. One day, my mother even came down to beg me to." Castiel's lower lip quivered and his eyes flooded with fresh tears that spilled down his cheeks. Dean tugged him closer, kissing his temple, gently shushing him and rocking him until he was ready to continue many long minutes later.

"How many days were you down there?"

"I had no way to tell. No light to mark any passage of time, nor many waking hours. It felt like weeks, and at one point I--I nearly gave up. I tried to...tried to end it on my own terms. But he prevented it."

Dean went still, and Castiel turned to look into his wide eyes and pale face. "Cas--" Dean choked out.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Dean. Afterward, I regretted my cowardice. I told you, I would never leave you without saying goodbye. That was what strengthened my resolve. I told him the next day that love was a virtue and I would never repent for that. That was when he decided I would die. It was Lucifer and Michael who dragged me out, I was asked one last time by mother to repent, and at my refusal, they threw me in the car trunk. But I fought back. I grabbed Lucifer's phone." Castiel paused, drawing in a deep breath and scrubbing at his face with the heel of one palm. "It was then I was able to call 911, but they didn't arrive in time. When he had me strung up, I thought...I thought..."

Castiel's tears ran afresh down his face, body wracked with sobs, gasping into Dean's shirt as he clutched at him. Dean nosed at his cheek, kissing his face where he could reach.

"Shh, baby, I've got you, I've got you," Dean crooned softly in a low voice, holding him until the sobs quieted to soft whimpers.

Talbot finally seemed to soften, glancing up at Dean. "At which point, you and Lafitte arrived?"

Dean nodded.

"Th-the rope broke somehow," Castiel snuffled against Dean's collar.

"It was shot through," Talbot said calmly. "The rope was burned and there were rope fibers on a bullet found lodged in the opposing wall."

Castiel's head jerked up, watery blue eyes staring into worried green ones with shock.

" _You shot the rope??_ "

"Are you doubting my shooting skills?" Dean was aiming for airy, but it came off sounding like a genuine concern.

"A rope is a small target, Dean!" Castiel protested.

Dean shrugged faintly. "I was invested in the outcome. I made it happen."

Castiel gaped at him, but eventually his face softened and he looked down at the ring on his left hand. "I suppose you were."

"Touching," Talbot sighed. "Who shot Lucifer Milton?"

"I don't know," Castiel answered honestly. "After the rope broke, I fell, and he jumped down on top of me to try to finish the job with his hands. I heard shouting while I was struggling, and another shot and then...he was bleeding. He just collapsed after that. I could hear a woman's voice, my Aunt, as well as Dean's and Benny's, and then Dean was pulling Lucifer off and the police arrived. They took me to the hospital after--"

"--where he was the worst patient ever," Dean ribbed him with a grin.

"Shut up," Castiel bit out, no heat in his voice as he glared weakly.

"Now, if Cas and I are free to go, we can be reached in Kansas City. We're going home," Dean was completely finished with this for the both of them.

Talbot's eyes narrowed, but she waved him off. "Just don't leave the country. You both may have to testify."

"Not even on a honeymoon?" Dean grinned.

Talbot somehow managed to glare even more darkly at Dean and pointed at the door. "Out."

Dean didn't bother looking back as he guided Castiel out, cackling.

"Dean, there's one problem with going back to Kansas City," Castiel pointed out, touching Dean's hand where it lay on his waist.

"What's that?"

"Our homes are crime scenes. Yours is in shambles."

"About that..." Dean ducked his head.

"What did you do, Dean?"

"Not me! Sam, Sarah, Charlie, and a few others!" Dean held up his free hand defensively.

"Explain."

"It was their idea, I had no clue until Sam spilled early this morning."

"Spit it out, damn it!"

Dean flinched, eyes wide. Castiel _never_ cursed.

"A-after the scenes were cleared, your house got a full offer."

Castiel pulled to a stop, turning to face Dean. "No offense, but I am in no hurry to rush back to your apartment any more than my own house."

"We don't have to. Charlie got us another place to stay. 's got security and a gym. We can take a month or two to decide..." Dean smiled, but it came out looking more like a wincing grimace.

"And you didn't think to discuss this with me? Or mention it right away?"

"Like I said, I had nothing to do with it, and we had enough to worry about this morning. If we hate it, they'll change it. Sam swears."

Castiel sighed, shaking his head. "Is your family always this interfering?"

"I plead the fifth."

"That's only to avoid incriminating yourself." Castiel shook his head, exasperated.

"Exactly!" Dean was secretly pleased that he had managed to distract Castiel from the stress of reliving the horrors that Lucifer had put him through.

"Are you suggesting you're just as interfering?"

"Fifth amendment!" Dean declared.

Castiel finally--finally!--cracked a real smile, shaking his head fondly. "Okay, let's go home, sweetheart."

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

When Castiel and Dean returned to Kansas City, they humored Sam and pretended to act surprised. It wasn't that hard, really. The apartment was beautiful with a great view, and it seamlessly blended their possessions into one cohesive style. (They later christened each and every room in the apartment. At least twice.) In return, later that week at dinner, Sam pretended to be surprised when Dean and Castiel announced their engagement.

Cain was furious with Dean and his whole damn team and threatened to fire them all if they ever so much as put a toe out of line again. Imagine his embarrassment and ire, however, when the mayor of Chicago presented Dean with a medal for recognition for service above and beyond the call of duty. Dean barely restrained himself from gloating when he proudly displayed it in his office, now liberally decorated with photographs of family and friends.

Sam finally proposed to Sarah, and Charlie to her girlfriend, as well--they both said yes, by the way. Castiel's aunt, Amara, ended up going to trial, but no juror was willing to convict her; she was released and she and her brother Chuck took in Alfie (who now got to see his formerly estranged siblings all of the time, much to his joy).

Naomi and Michael were convicted of kidnapping, aiding and abetting a kidnapping, unlawful imprisonment, aiding in an attempted murder, and for hate crimes over a year later. They tried, unsuccessfully, to have their convictions overturned and buy their way out of their earned fate.

A little over two years later, Castiel and Dean left the BAU and found a nice apartment in Lawrence. Castiel took over at the clinic in town, and Dean? Dean took over Bobby's garage, still getting to be mostly in charge of something and enjoying it thoroughly (unlike his work at the BAU). He liked working with his hands and he didn't miss hunting psychopaths even remotely.

Two and a half years later, when Dean's birthday had rolled around again, Bobby had all but threatened to fire him if he didn't take the day off. Castiel, too, had taken the day off at the clinic, borrowing a doctor to fill in from the hospital in Kansas City.

As loath as he was to get up early, Castiel did it anyway for the sake of his fiance, creeping into the kitchen and then into the garage to pull bags from the trunk of the blue '72 Chevy Nova (with black top and push button transmission) Dean had had restored for Castiel's birthday that past September. He sneaked back into the kitchen, opening a cookbook and setting up the pans, cooking breakfast and setting it all on a tray with a single red rose. Then he pushed his way into the bedroom, smiling at the sight of Dean, sleep-soft and warm, rolled over into Castiel's spot. His face was buried in the pillow, arms wrapped tightly around it. Castiel set the tray on the nightstand and sat down by Dean, leaning over him and nosing at the soft spot beneath his ear.

"Dean..."

Dean murmured something muffled into the pillow.

"Happy birthday, sweetheart," Castiel continued, nibbling at Dean's earlobe.

Dean moaned in approval, still buried in the pillow.

Castiel chuckled, pulling away. "Wake up, Dean."

Dean lifted his head his head from the pillow, just barely. "Whyyyy? Didn't have to stop on my account..." he moaned, flopping his face back down again.

"I made you breakfast," the dark-haired man chuckled, stroking his fingers through his fiance's bedhead.

Dean rolled over at that, blinking the sleep from his eyes, and Castiel leaned in to kiss his lips. When he pulled away, Dean tried to follow, and Castiel pushed him back. "Maybe later, your food is hot."

He set the tray in Dean's lap--bacon, scrambled eggs, and two huge blueberry waffles smothered in butter and drowned in syrup. It was flanked on either side by coffee and orange juice, and Dean grinned. "This looks amazing! But...how did you know I'd want waffles?"

Castiel smiled softly at his green-eyed lover. "You told me once. Almost three years ago."

Dean paused, coffee halfway to his mouth. "When?"

"The same night you told me a lot of things. The first night I stayed."

Dean's hand lowered as he stared at Castiel. "You remembered?"

"I told you. I remember a lot of things." Castiel cut the waffles and held up a drippy bite for Dean. He met Castiel's eyes, leaning forward to slowly close his lips around the bite, moaning as he chewed, and he slowly licked butter and syrup from his lips.

"Cas, it's so good," Dean said breathily, teasing. "Wouldn't you like to--" Dean leaned in close, "--taste?"

Castiel dipped in for a light kiss, but Dean threaded his fingers into the messy nest of Castiel's hair, tugging him in to trace his lower lip. Castiel couldn't keep himself from parting his lips and Dean swept his tongue in, sharing the taste of syrup, coffee, and butter. Breakfast ended up shoved aside for intense kisses that ended in feeding each other bites of food back and forth with Castiel straddling Dean's lap.

A late morning shower after breakfast left them both clean and sated, and they laid on the couch all day, trading lazy kisses and watching Dr. Sexy as they ate cooling pizza for lunch. By the time the evening rolled around, Castiel declared it was time to drag Dean out for burgers and beer, which Dean was all for.

What Dean wasn't expecting, however, was for Castiel to bring him to The Roadhouse. And when the doors swung open, it was to the chorus of friends and family, the most important people in his life, screaming, "Happy birthday, Dean!" For the first time in Dean's life, he didn't mind. He felt like his life was worth celebrating.

And if Dean shed a few tears at his birthday gifts--Bobby gave him the auto shop (he called it his early inheritance since Dean was as good as his oldest son), Sam and Sarah gave him and Castiel a fantastic honeymoon package to Hawaii, Ellen offered to cater their reception, the others offered to cover other wedding expenses, and Castiel, well, Castiel gave him the down payment for their dream house in town--nobody said a word.

With a slab of birthday pie (because screw cake) on his plate and his fiance curled against his side, Dean Winchester was pretty damn content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One chapter to go after this, folks!
> 
> The car is a nod to my mom and her favorite car!


	16. The End?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of the road.
> 
> But even the end can mean new beginnings....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edits on the lyrics of The Wedding Song are my own. This one is a tribute to my own weirdo folk music-loving parents.

It was four years to the day that they had met, and finally their journey had brought them here to this point. Dean stood in front of the mirror, struggling with his green tie, his fingers clumsy with nerves, the silk sticking to his hands with sweat. Finally Sam snatched the tie from him and did it up for him, nice and neat.

"Anxious?" his younger brother asked with a smirk. But when Dean looked up at his brother with wide, fearful eyes, Sam's smirk quickly faded at his brother's total lack of bravado. "Dean? What's wrong?"

"What if he changes his mind? What if he thinks it's too soon?" Dean's breathing picked up slightly in pace. "What if he doesn't want to marry a mechanic?"

Sam stepped in front of his brother, gripping him by the shoulders. "Dean, stop. Cas loves you. He's stuck around for four years, through your self-hate and anxiety, your PTSD and his, through three moves, multiple injuries and hospitalizations, all the danger and stress of your jobs with the FBI. Not want to marry a mechanic? Are you kidding me? I think he'd hesitate to marry the FBI agent if he hesitated at all, because of how often you got hurt. The mechanic? Not only is his job way safer--" Sam paused, poking Dean's trim belly with a grin, "--I'm sure he can't complain about the muscle you've put on."

"Cut it out, bitch," Dean replied with no heat, swatting at Sam's hands with a weak glare.

"Jerk. He loves you. Don't doubt it for an instant." Sam leveled a bitch face of epic proportions at him.

Dean was still frowning. Sam bit his lip, unsure.

"Are you regretting this, Dean?"

Dean's eyes flared wide. "Wh-no! Geez, no. I love Cas, more than anything."

"Then what's the problem?"

Dean took on a staring match with the floor. "I just don't want him to wake up one day and regret marrying me."

"You're an idiot if you can't see how much that man adores you."

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Across the hall, Castiel was in a similar state, his blue tie on backwards and his previously gelled hair spiked up in sex hair tufts from nervous fingers running through it again and again.

"Calm down, little brother," Gabriel soothed, flipping the tie around. "What have you got to be nervous about?"

"What if this is too much for him?"

"He survived the crowd at his last birthday, Cassie."

"This is a bigger crowd, and a wedding, and he has to say vows in front of everyone."

"When was the last time he hesitated to introduce you as his fiance?" Gabriel asked pointedly.

Castiel was silent. Dean had never once been afraid to tell everyone they were engaged after they had told their families.

"Exactly." Gabriel elbowed him. "There's no way he'll hesitate to introduce you as his husband after this."

Castiel looked back at his brother, sighing. "You're right, Gabriel. I'm being ridiculous."

Gabriel grinned and stuck a lollipop in his mouth, and Castiel rolled his eyes.

"You cannot eat that during my wedding, Gabriel."

Gabriel crunched down on the hard candy, smirking at him.

"And no colorful tongues in wedding party photos."

"Spoil sport," Gabriel cracked with a smile.

Charlie knocked on their doors just then and called from the hall, "It's time, you nerds! Let's get you hitched!"

Sam and Gabriel stepped out to go join the procession line, they as the best men, Benny and Charlie as Dean's wedding party, and Hannah and Alfie as Castiel's

When Dean and Castiel finally stepped out of their respective dressing rooms and met in the hall, Dean met Castiel's eyes, his own as wide and nervous as his fiance's.

"Hello, Dean. Are you ready?"

Dean reached out for Castiel. "Almost. Your tie." He barely managed to straighten it, his hands were shaking so badly, his eyes locked on the fabric.

"Dean?" Castiel's hands settled on his fiance's and Dean's eyes shot up to his. "Are you sure about this, sweetheart? We don't have to do this if you don't want to."

"What?" Dean's voice cracked. "No, Cas, please. I want to. I want to marry you, today. I'm sure. It's just...I mean, are you sure?"

"I'm sure, Dean. I love you." Castiel leaned forward to kiss him, but Bobby barked at both of them.

"Save that for after the vows! Get moving!"

They jumped as Bobby crowded ahead to join Ellen at the front, where she and Bobby filled in as Dean's parental figures. Across the aisle sat Chuck and Amara for Castiel. Spread out in the audience were Castiel's sisters, the rest of their former team, employees from the garage, hospital, and clinic, Castiel's friend Meg, Donna and Jody, spouses and dates of various attendees.

After their wedding party preceded them, the music that started up to welcome was not the traditional wedding march but Dean's suggestion of [The Wedding Song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aZbhrO4IEtI) because of the meaningfulness of the song--modified to suit them as a couple.

> He is now to be among you at the calling of your hearts  
>  Rest assured this troubador is acting on His part.  
>  The union of your spirits, here, has caused Him to remain  
>  For whenever two or more of you are gathered in His name  
>  There is love, there is love.  
>    
>  One man shall leave his family and the other leave his home  
>  And they shall travel on to where the two shall be as one.  
>  As it was in the beginning is now and til the end  
>  They draw their life from one another and give it back again.  
>  And there is love, there is love.  
>    
>  Well then what's to be the reason for ending all your strife?  
>  Is it love that brings you here or love that brings you life?  
>  And if loving is the answer, then who's the giving for?  
>  Do you believe in something that you've never seen before?  
>  Oh there's love, there is love.  
>    
>  Oh the marriage of your spirits here has caused Him to remain  
>  For whenever two or more of you are gathered in His name  
>  There is love, there is love.

Dean took a deep breath, fidgeting a little. The moment they stepped into the sanctuary, hand in hand as they approached the altar, Dean felt a sudden calm come over him, a sense of peace he'd never felt before. They were really doing this, this was real, and it struck him hard as they came to a halt in front of Father Collins, the man opening his book with a smile.

"We are gathered here today the celebrate the union of Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak. Dean and Castiel have chosen to walk to the altar together today instead of one meeting the other here, in hopes that the rest of their lives are a journey taken together as well. And as Dean and Castiel are both far from traditional, they have chosen to give their own vows."

Dean smiled at Castiel, fidgeting again, but Castiel reached out and took his other hand as well, nodding for him to go ahead. 

"Cas, the day I met you, I thought you were the most annoying man I'd ever met." They both laughed. "I never thought you'd be anything but a pretty face to look at."

"That wasn't his face you were staring at!" Benny crowed from the crowd, and Dean glared. Donna and Jody snickered.

"Anyway! That night in the cemetery, at my mom's grave, I got a first glimpse of how caring you could be. Whatever differences we had, the night I found myself in Hell, you put them aside, you gripped me tight, and you raised me from perdition. You stayed by my side and you helped put me back together again, in body and in spirit. And the night you rescued me from my nightmares, I knew I was falling for you, and it terrified me to know. You were warm and funny. You were unbelievably understanding when you could have been angry, disgusted, or insulted. You stayed when you could have just walked away. I'm ready for forever with you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you and grow old with you. I am forever grateful to you, that you have always been, as your name suggests, my angel. I love you, Cas."

Castiel's eyes watered and his lower lip trembled so badly, Charlie had to go retrieve a box of tissues from the audience for him.

"Wow, Dean," Castiel replied, breathy with laughter. "I honestly didn't think much better of you that first time. I thought you were, as you said, just some brawny fed, no brains. But you showed me just how smart you really are, and how dedicated you are to everything you do. I knew I was falling hard and fast for you, and I tried so hard to not scare you away. But I was drawn to you, a shining beacon in the darkness, and it was impossible to not reach out for you. You caught me as I fell and held me close, and when I set myself adrift into my own Hell, you drew me back to shore. I am thankful for you every single day, Dean, because you keep me from being my namesake, the angel of solitude and tears. I love you beyond words, sweetheart, always. I look forward to a future with you in it."

Dean's eyes felt wet, stinging with salty tears.

Father Collins nodded toward a small pillow in front of him on the podium. "And how for the exchanging of the rings. Dean, take Castiel's left hand and repeat after me. I, Dean, take you, Castiel to be my husband."

Dean drew in a breath. "I, Dean, take you, Castiel to be my husband."

"Your love is my anchor," Father Collins spoke.

"Your love is my anchor," Dean replied.

"Your trust is my strength," Father Collins continued.

"Your trust is my strength."

"I will give you all my love." 

"I will give you all my love," Dean choked, tearing up. 

"From now until eternity ends." Father Collins was smiling.

"From now until eternity ends."

"You make my life complete."

"You make my life complete." With Dean's final words, he slid the simple gold band home, now inscribed with their initials and their wedding date inside the band, fitting it snugly over Castiel's finger. Castiel took Dean's hands next, repeating the vows, and when a silver band was pushed onto his finger, Dean smiled down at it softly. Father Collins gripped their joined hands and held them aloft.

"A ring is a circle that never ends--it symbolizes the eternity we wish for their union. Now, if anyone has any reason why this union should not be, speak now or forever hold your peace."

Dean and Castiel found themselves holding their breaths, although they knew none of their family or friends would dare--

The door to the sanctuary swung open and every head jerked in that direction to stare. 

Correction: There were family members who would, and Castiel's living ones were in prison, leaving John Winchester staring down the aisle at his son and almost-son-in-law. They both tensed, gripping one another's hands more tightly. For a few strained moments, they stared back and forth, and then John sank into the back pew silently. Dean cast a confused look at Castiel, then at Father Collins, who shrugged slightly and finally spoke. "Then let no man tear asunder this marriage formed in the sight of God. You may kiss!" he declared, releasing their hands.

Dean surged forward, pulling Castiel into his arms and pressing a closed-mouth but nothing short of passionate kiss to his lips. When they pulled apart, Father Collins grinned. "I now present to you for the first time, Dean and Castiel Winchester!" Dean jerked toward Castiel, wide-eyed.

"Surprise," Castiel whispered to Dean with a grin, and Dean dragged him in for another quick kiss as the recessional began. They paused briefly at the door, and Dean shot a confused glance at John, who nodded briefly at him.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

In the limo after wedding party photos, Dean pulled off his jacket and tie, rolling up the sleeves, Castiel mimicking his actions.

"So, Cas, you didn't seem as surprised to see my dad as everyone else. Something you wanna share with the class?"

Castiel grimaced. "I went and saw your dad. I told him we were getting married. That we love each other, that what you wanted with me was what he wanted with your mother--forever. He didn't have to like me or even accept your sexuality, but he needed to know you'd found happiness and love, sweetheart. I told him he could come if he would be able to behave himself."

Dean's brows knit together. "Do you think he will?"

"I overheard Bobby and Ellen threaten him if he didn't." Castiel leaned toward Dean, slipping his hand around the back of Dean's neck and pulling him in for a kiss, slow and sweet. Dean smiled against his lips, pulling back the barest fraction.

"Hello, husband," Dean whispered reverently against his mouth. "If it weren't for the fact that everyone would be disappointed, I'd rather skip straight to the honeymoon."

"You're going to be sedated for part of it, remember?" Castiel snorted.

Dean leered at him. "I meant after the flight, in the honeymoon suite."

Castiel laughed. "You're insatiable. We were almost late to the church because of you."

"Sam and Gabe had no idea. So what?"

"Just keep it in your pants until we get to Hawaii, Mr. Winchester."

"Not fair," Dean pouted, pushing his lower lip out in an attempt to make a puppy face, but Castiel and Sam both had him beat in that department.

Castiel snickered. "I doubt the driver would appreciate it if I gave you a blow job here."

"But I would," Dean replied, grinning and wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"Dean, no," Castiel said, but he was laughing.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

The reception at The Roadhouse was lovely, the tables set up and the whole room decorated in blue and green silks, blue bellflowers paired with green hellebore, pristine white dishes, silverware, and crystal (Castiel insisted). At Dean and Castiel's seats, tied to their respective chairs were a blue, pink, and purple ribbon and a rainbow ribbon. Castiel's eyes shot to Gabriel immediately, who just smirked, not even looking remotely guilty.

Dean glanced at the food longingly, instead, a burger bar with Ellen's best sides--potato salad, coleslaw, and beans. Instead of a fancy cake there sat a tray of tiered pies, surrounded by mini pies for easier serving. Dean had insisted on apple and pecan, Castiel had picked cherry and pumpkin, and Dean's stomach growled hungrily, demanding attention. Breakfast was hours ago and Dean reached out to snag one bite, just one morsel, but Castiel dragged him off to talk to every guest attending to thank them for coming--and for those who had contributed to the wedding, to thank them personally.

Finally, it was time for speeches. Gabriel stood first, grinning widely, and Castiel shot him a warning glare before taking the first bite of his burger, now that he and Dean finally had a moment to eat.

"Well, Dean-o, I have to say, the first time my brother told me about you, I thought I'd have to hurt you, man. He was pathetically gone on you already, and you? You were in denial. But when you told me he'd gone off like an idiot, I knew you'd have to live if you saved him because there was no way he'd let his hero go. I expect you to take care of my brother's heart.

"And Cassie? I think you got a pretty good guy here, actually, and as a huge bonus, he's not hard on the eyes." Gabriel winked at Dean and and Gabriel's wife glared at him from her seat. Gabriel grinned and flopped down next to Kali, kissing her cheek.

Sam stood next, smiling out at his own wife, Sarah, as he did.

"Dean, I honestly thought you'd never figure yourself out and settle down. I knew you were afraid to be honest with yourself, but I never understood why until--" Sam paused, glancing in John's direction, "--until a few years ago. I'm glad Cas was worth it. All I ever wanted for my big brother, the guy who practically raised me, was for him to be happy, and Cas makes you happy.

"Cas, I was worried that maybe Dean might have been going too fast the morning he told me he'd proposed. I was concerned that maybe Dean was making a rash decision, even if I did like you. I didn't say anything because Dean doesn't listen to me anyway, but you've done nothing but prove my misgivings wrong. Gabriel wants Dean to take care of you. He doesn't need to worry about that. That's all Dean's ever done. What I wanted was someone who could return the favor--someone he'd let take care of him, too, and he lets you. So thank you for that."

Dean turned and nuzzled Castiel's cheek, grinning, and they stood next.

"We'd like to thank everyone for coming today. Thank you for your support along the road so far, for believing in us," Dean said, glancing to his team, "for saving us and fighting alongside us."

"For helping us and loving us, and for forgiving us and encouraging us to forgive, and for reminding us how perfect we are for each other. For standing by us always, as family and friends should. We can never thank you enough," Castiel added with a smile.

Dean drew Castiel in by the waist, dipping his head to steal a brief kiss, and most everyone "aww'd" at them. Charlie smirked, shouting, "You two are disgustingly cute!" Dean grinned at her, unperturbed. 

"Well," Benny said, "unless someone has some speech to stroke the chief's ego about what a great leader he is and how we all look up to him or miss him or whatever--"

To everyone's surprise, someone shifted and cleared their throat, and everyone turned to find John Winchester on his feet. "If I may...?"

Dean and Castiel glanced at each other, and Sam and Bobby crowded in close to them. "What do you guys want to do?" Sam asked.

Castiel shook his head. "This is my husband's decision alone."

Dean looked among the three men who all loved him in different but invaluable ways. They would stand by him, no matter what his father had to say, so Dean nodded faintly. "Okay, go ahead, let him talk."  

Sam nodded, too, glancing at John and motioning toward the microphone before he and Bobby returned to their seats.

John slowly stepped forward, all eyes locked on him, and he stopped at the mic, fiddling with the hem of his suit jacket restlessly. He sighed, and after a couple of false starts, he finally spoke, waving a hand at Dean and Castiel.

"I...I can't say I'll ever be completely comfortable with this--"

Sam and Bobby half rose and Dean shook his head.

"--but, uh, Dean's my son, you know. All a parent should want for their child is that they are happy, healthy, and safe. Dean's got that now. Mary...Mary would have been so happy for you, Dean. Because your...your husband is to you what your mother was to me. Now I know I've never given very good advice much before, but I'd like to offer you what little I can. Dean, love him as hard as you can. Keep romancing him, going on dates, flirting with him. Go on vacations. Communicate. Make time for each other just as much for yourselves. Don't ever forget he's first in your life. I know that if kids come into the picture, priorities will...have to shift some, but in the end, your kids grow up and move away and it's back you and your spouse again. Don't ever forget that you're a team. What you do, you do together."

Dean and Castiel just stared at him for long moments afterward, and John cleared his throat awkwardly. "So, uh, let's dance?"

The music turned on thanks to the DJ and the guests began heading for the dance floor, but Dean instead headed for John, Castiel on his tail. "Thanks, Dad. That was....that was nice."

John smiled faintly. "I, uh...you should know I'm going to rehab, Dean."

Dean's face lit up with surprise, lips parting slightly with a faint intake of breath.

"I know, shocking," John chuckled. He turned to Castiel. "So this is my son-in-law. The doctor."

Castiel nodded, opened his mouth to speak, but then Charlie was at his elbow, tugging. "Hey, nerds, let's get a move-on. We can't have the first dance without the married couple."

Dean flushed and glanced at his dad. "We'll pick this up later?"

John nodded, and Dean and Castiel stepped onto the dance floor, pulling each other close, swaying slowly to Led Zeppelin's [Thank You](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=je4jmKLTC48), grinning at each other like fools.

 

> If the sun refused to shine, I would still be loving you.  
>  When mountains crumble to the sea, there will still be you and me.  
>  Kind woman, I give you my all, Kind woman, nothing more.
> 
> Little drops of rain whisper of the pain, tears of loves lost in the days gone by.  
>  My love is strong, with you there is no wrong,  
>  together we shall go until we die. My, my, my.  
>  An inspiration is what you are to me, inspiration, look... see.
> 
> And so today, my world it smiles, your hand in mine, we walk the miles,  
>  Thanks to you it will be done, for you to me are the only one.  
>  Happiness, no more be sad, happiness....I'm glad.  
>  If the sun refused to shine, I would still be loving you.  
>  When mountains crumble to the sea, there will still be you and me.

  
Other couples joined them after, another slow song, but after that, the music picked up for a while.  
   
Eventually Dean sat for a break, and Hannah flopped down next to him, smiling broadly. "This is quite a party."  
   
He grinned at her, elbowing her lightly. He'd become quite close to Castiel's family over the past few years. "I ever tell you how eerily alike you and Cas look?"  
   
Hannah laughed. "Only every chance you get, Dean. Proof positive, though, that you're just entirely more gay than straight, since you prefer his equipment over mine."  
   
Dean chuckled. "Bisexuality doesn't work like that, Hannah."  
   
"I know, I'm just teasing."  
   
Dean's smile faltered slightly. "Your 'equipment', as you so charmingly put it, does have one noticeable advantage."  
   
"Oh?" Hannah gave him a curious look, brows knit together.   
   
"Better chance of having kids. Not a guarantee, I know, but..."  
   
Hannah turned slightly towards him. "Have you two discussed kids?"  
   
Dean nodded. "We want at least one. Eventually, not right away."  
   
"Want one what?" Castiel asked, plopping down gracelessly next to Dean, red-faced and breathless from dancing with Charlie.  
   
"Kids," Dean and Hannah replied in one voice.  
   
"Oh." Castiel smiled faintly. "Yes, definitely not right away."  
   
"Are you thinking of adopting?" Hannah asked, looking between her brother and brother-in-law.   
   
"We hadn't thought that far in advance, honestly," Castiel said, glancing at Dean. "Kids are expensive, and we want time to save. For adoption fees or medical expenses or whatever."  
   
"Well, what about a surrogate?" Hannah asked.  
   
"The thought had occurred to us," Dean said, "but we hadn't really thought about who we'd even ask."  
   
Hannah smiled at both of them. "Well, I'd be willing to try when the time comes."  
   
Dean and Castiel both started slightly. "Wait, really?" Dean asked.  
   
"Sure. That way, the child would be biologically related to both of you." Hannah bumped Castiel's shoulder. "And there's a chance the kid would look like both of you."  
   
Dean and Castiel stared at her, wide-eyed and mouths hanging open slightly. "Are you sure?" Dean finally managed.  
   
Hannah nodded, and Dean surged forward, pulling her into a tight hug. "Thank you so much, Hannah."  
   
"We're family, Dean. Consider it a bonus wedding gift, the promise of future children."  
   
When Dean disentangled himself, Hannah turned to Castiel. "Is that suitable for you, Castiel?"  
   
Castiel was still staring at her in wonder. "More than I could have ever dared to ask for," he replied softly, pulling her into a hug of his own.  
   
Sam joined them a moment later, tailed by Charlie. "What's up, guys?" Sam asked.  
   
Dean turned to his brother, eyes bright. He was not crying, damn it!  
   
"Hannah offered to be our surrogate when we're ready for kids." Dean's voice cracked on the last word.  
   
Sam grinned. "That's awesome, Dean." He gently squeezed Hannah's arm, shooting her a grateful look.  
   
After that, the rest of the wedding reception went off without a hitch--although Dean and Castiel were both absolutely shameless, smashing pie in each other's faces and then licking it off, laughing uproariously the entire time.  
   
The only down side of the entire affair was that Dean was pretty damn pissed when he saw the cans tied to his bumper and "Just Married" painted on the window.   
   
"Gaaaaaaabe! I told y'all to leave my car the hell alone!"  
   
Gabriel cackled and ducked behind Sam, out of reach. Sam snickered.  
   
"They can wash Baby while we're gone, sweetheart. But the taxi is going to be at the house in 45 minutes for the airport, we need to go." Castiel dragged Dean off as their guests waved goodbye.  
   
Getting Dean through security was an ordeal, due to Dean's fear of flying. Half-doped on anxiety meds, Castiel had to practically manhandle him, especially when he got the other half of the dosage into Dean. But with a doctor's note they were quickly situated and boarded and Dean slept through the whole flight, only waking briefly for a bite to eat and a bathroom break, and then again at the other end of the flight to get dragged into a taxi.  
   
The next evening found them on the beach together at sunset, Castiel reclining back against Dean's chest as they sat on a blanket, Dean's arms wrapped snugly around his husband's chest.   
   
Life, Dean thought, was perfect.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  
   
Three years later, they were rushing to the hospital to meet Hannah in time as she fulfilled her promise. In the hours that followed, Dean finally held their newborn son for the first time, blue eyes and a full head of dark, curly hair. Dean grinned proudly, peering down into those alert eyes, and Castiel stepped close, wrapping his arms around his husband and son.  
   
"I can never thank you enough for this gift, Hannah," Castiel said softly, smiling down at his child.  
   
Hannah's responding smile was exhausted as she reclined on her bed. "What are you naming him?"  
   
Dean cast his adoring smile in his sister-in-law's direction. "Well, we had been thinking Mary Ann for a girl. But since he's a boy, Jude James."  
   
"Jude?"  
   
"It's Biblical, but also a tribute to the memory of my mother. A song she used to sing to me and Sam, and I'd sing if for Sam after she died."  
   
Sam knocked on the door just then, poking his head in. "Charlie's here, she and Gilda are sitting with Bobby, Ellen, and Sarah right now."  
   
Dean didn't even look up from stroking a finger over Jude's small, soft cheek. Sam just shook his head fondly, ducking back out into the waiting room.

After a few beats of reverent silence, Dean began to sing in a soft, smoky voice:

 

> [Hey Jude](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VRLxkHGbN_8), don't make it bad,  
>  Take a sad song and make it better  
>  Remember to let her into your heart  
>  Then you can start to make it better
> 
> Hey Jude, don't be afraid  
>  You were made to go out and get her  
>  The minute you let her into your heart  
>  Then you can start to make it better
> 
> And anytime you feel the pain, hey Jude, refrain  
>  Don't carry the world upon your shoulders  
>  For well you know that it's a fool who plays it cool  
>  By making his world a little colder  
>  Nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah
> 
> Hey Jude, don't let me down  
>  You have found her, now go and get her  
>  Remember to let her into your heart  
>  Then you can start to make it better
> 
> So let it out and let it in, hey Jude, begin  
>  You're waiting for someone to perform with  
>  And don't you that it's just you, hey Jude, you'll do  
>  The movement you need is on your shoulder  
>  Nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah yeah
> 
> Hey Jude, don't make it bad  
>  Take a sad song and make it better  
>  Remember to let her under your skin  
>  Then you'll begin to make it...  
>  Better

   
What Dean had thought was a perfect life? Now he knew it was.  
   
   
   
\--The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ribbons tied to their chairs represent the bisexual and gay pride flags.


End file.
